Children of None
by Karasu Marquez
Summary: Sistine Rivers and Gabriel Artus; subject 13 and 14 of the Animus. Given the choice to under go the bizarre treatment or death, they are sent back into the genetic memories of their ancestors to unlock the mysteries Abstergo Industries seek
1. Subject 13

Chapter 1

Subject 13

_Nothing is true, everything is permitted. _

-Hassan-i Sabbah

Dizzy. A spinning sensation? Everything is fuzzy and unclear. Dammit, what's-are those voices I hear? They're so faint and distant. No, they're right there in front of me! What are they wearing? Tunics? Where the hell am I?! Someone bumped into my shoulder! Watch where I'm going? Is that what he said? Wait, I'm running, I think. This body feels so alien but so domestic. These people just kept getting in the way. Why are there so many of them? Where was I even going? Pain. A stinging sensation in my ankle, faint but there. The ground was getting closer, distant air rushed past my face. I was falling? Things were moving to slowly. Lagging and leaving behind several faint afterimages, like a bad video game. Contact. Cool concrete against my skin. Why is it I can barley feel this sensation, though?

"She can't handle the psychological stress. She's refusing the treatment!" A women's voice said, louder and clear then those around me.

I spun around to find the source and was knocked down by a blurred figure. Wait, how did I get back on my feet in the first place? I didn't remember standing up. Damn, the ground seemed closer this time. My head! I felt that one.

"Sistine, I want you to relax."

A male voice? It sounded older. Weight on my shoulders? Hands. Someone had grabbed me. The rush of being pulled me to my feet, a twisting feeling in my head. Then a face, thin and dark, inches from my own. Was it my face? Or someone else's?

_Get a hold of yourself, Lisha! _

Why did he sound so far away? Who's Lisha? I'm Lisha! Lisha Bint La-Ahad! No, my name is Sistine, a clerk at a Starbucks café. Haydar! Wait, how did I know his name? My partner, my brother, my friend! Shahin! A child? Whose child? No, these weren't my memories! Altaïr? Who's Sistine? I'm Sistine!!! No, I'm-

"I can't stabilize her!"

The women?

"Can you hear me, Sistine? What you're seeing isn't real, it can't hurt you."

"Dammit, we have to pull her out!"

Haydar began shaking me, a slow and painful movement. Was that his name?

"Alright, Sistine, we're going to bring you back now."

_Lisha, what is the matter?_

Bright light. Too bright. Engulfing me, swallowing me down whole. Then it was gone, fading, fading. Darker, darker. Forms. A face? Blonde hair framing a pretty face.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Air! I felt my body lurch upward, gasping for the sweet, formless, nectar to fill my lungs. _My_ lungs!! The hell? The spinning sensation again! No, I had just sat up too fast. Two hands suddenly there in front of my face, trembling like leaves in the breeze. _My_ hands! _My_ body!! Oh, thank god.

"Ms. Rivers, do you remember who you are?" The elderly voice said. I looked over to see an older man dressed in neat clothes under a lab coat, like the blonde women. His face, I had seen many in my life, but his I could not read. Could not decide whether he was trustworthy or not.

"Where the hell am I?!?!" I demanded, never feeling so pissed off in my life.

I didn't have the slightest idea about where I was, or what I was even doing here! A large, nearly empty, room where everything was painted or colored different shades of white. A lonely desk, a single computer on its surface, placed in front of a few large windows to my left. What a boring and clean place. The one thing I found fascinating was the strange table-machine I was sitting on.

"Now, Ms. Rivers, if we are to get along you need to calm down."

"Get along?!" I spat back. "I don't even know you. You kidnapped me, you bastards!!"

"You could possibly hold information we need." Mr. Scientist said, calm as a cat.

"Information?! Like what?! How to make a Mocha Latte?!" Sarcasm began to form in my voice. "Guess I forgot that only normal people _ask_!"

My hands balled into fists and I swear I could feel fumes erupting form my ears. You know, like in those old school cartoons.

"Well, according to my informants, you have been working incognito as a terrorist bomber for hire as long as it did not endanger the lives of the innocent." He raised an eyebrow.

I looked from Mr. Lab-Coat to Assistant Blondie. My tight fists relaxed and I dropped my gaze.

"Who are you people?" I asked quietly.

"Now, Ms. Rivers, I'd like you to give the date, year and your personal information."

"Why?"

"To make sure your memory is still stable."

I sighed. "August 3rd, 2012. My name is Sistine Rivers, nineteen years old, 5, 7'' and 136lbs."

"Very good." He said and Blondie made a note on her clip board. "Can you recall what happened the night you were kidnapped?"

It took a smidge of effort but I recalled the memory.

It had been a perfect day. Pure white clouds in a clear sky and green all around. I moved locations once every year, unless something came up that changed my migration planner. You'd be surprised at how popular Starbucks is in Sicily. Business had been good that day and I was able to leave early, taking the long way through the park to my small and cozy apartment. One cool thing about working at Starbucks was the discounts. I took advantage of my after work Carmel Frappuccino. First thing I did when I got home was feed my dog, Enzo (yeah, he's named after the dog from that one book), then made myself some dinner and settled down. Being an adult geek, I enjoy playing video games after good meal. Well, as fate would have it, my sugar tooth struck out, demanding something from the corner sweet shop down below. I surrendered and pulled a sweat shirt over my tank top and PJ bottoms. It would've driven my aunt nuts to know I had walked across the street barefoot (which is a thought I sadistically enjoy). Come to think of it, I couldn't remember going down the stairs of my apartment and out the door. Everything just skipped to the memory of me walking down the road to the sweet shop. Strange. Well, once in the sweet shop I grabbed some good ol' fashioned dark chocolate to satisfy the sugar crave. I peeled open the wrapper almost immediately after leaving the shop, taking a bite into the bitter-sweet treat. Then there was the sound of rushing footsteps behind me. Fourteen years of martial arts kicked in and I spun around to see a rather shady looking man standing behind me, his arm in mid-reach. I jumped back and bumped into someone else. Not enough time to react before there was a sharp pain in my neck and everything went black.

I explained all this to Grandpa Bill Nye, hesitated, then told him about the absence of the memory segment. His assistant noted this with a stiff expression.

"We're going to put you back in the Animus, but-"

"This thing?!" I cut in. "Uh-uh, no thanks, no way!"

Dr. What's-his-puts gave me the look you might give a disobedient child.

"We need to _search_ your memories in order to gather the information my employer desires." His face hardened. "These are his orders: if the subject refuses to cooperate, dispose of them."

I stared at him.

"We will kill you."

I looked from one to the other. My heart pounded. Were they insane?

"This can't be legal!" I protested.

"Who will look for you? Will someone file you as missing?"

I found no immediate answer.

"Lie down, Ms. Rivers." He commanded.

I obeyed with a sigh. The two faces came into view above me and a strange screen slid over my face.

"As I was saying earlier, before you interrupted me," Mr. Science began. "We're going to have to go back farther in your ancestor's memory then were we need to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"What you just saw while you strapped into the Animus, were the memories of your ancestor from the year 1191."

The confused look on my face must have alerted him.

"Do you know what a memory is, Ms. Rivers?"

"Er, the recollection of a past event, specific to the individual who is remembering it."

"Precisely. Now did you know that the human body does not only house its own personal memories, but that of its ancestors as well? What I call genetic memory. Things like migration and reproduction, how does an animal know when and where it needs to go or what to do? How do newly hatched turtles know they need to get out to sea before the predators reach them? How do just born sharks know they need to get away form their mother?"

I showed I was listening.

"I've spent the last thirty years trying to figure out why this is. That is when I discovered that our memory is similar to that of an archive. It carries both genetic instructions and memories from previous generations. And the Animus allows us to project these genetic memories in three dimensions."

"But like many subjects," The assistant cut in. " the memory we need to get to is a major landmark in your ancestors memories, which usually means they are under a lot stress. Because of this, your body and mind feels unprepared and rejects the treatment. You also lack the confidence to step into your ancestor's body."

"Why?"

"It's your subconscious. It's trying to resist. It's similar to undergoing hypnosis and reliving a traumatic event. Jumping into the memory can cause mental damage and so they are eased in. But that doesn't necessarily put you in the safe zone. If we're not careful, we could lose you. So were going to put you into a more stable memory, allow your body to adjust and move on from there. The memory we are placing you in now takes place a year before our destination, but we are doing this as a sort of test run to test your capability."

"I'm still kind of confused but I think I got the basic concept."

Actually, I was very confused. What they were talking about seemed impossible but I liked life just a bit and wanted to keep it, so I decided to play along. The screen above me grew bright and I was once again engulfed by the white light.

"Now remember, Ms. Rivers," Said the fading voice of the scientist. "This is a stimulation and can't literally harm you, so try to relax."

_Author Notes: Yep, an Assassins Creed fic. I played the game, fell in love with it and felt I had to do something with it. Plus, there are a lot of open options in here (and a lot of closed ones)_

_Anyway the first chapter was pretty similar to Desmond's whole ordeal but then again I would guess most subjects have the same reaction to waking up strapped to a weird machine and then get the story of Abstergo's life work, or if you want to call him Warren. So, a lot of this chapter was internal, with some long explanations. I'm still researching about the time period and such, so if anything is off, I'd appreciate if you could let me know._

_It's kind of funny I'm rating this mature when it contains basically the same elements as _Inazuma Ho_, maybe I should have made _that _mature too. ^^;_


	2. Assassination on the River

Chapter 2

Assassination on the River

_A known mistake is better than an unknown truth._

_-_Arabic Proverb

Static. A fuzzy image that appeared only to be skipped and changed. The mental sensation of shifting bodies and entering a known stranger's memories. Static vision, fading and becoming clearer. Visible. Another glitch before the transition was complete. Then…

Dusk. A word that is used to address the phenomenon of the desert sun dipping down below the horizon. Well, in this case, the desert was replaced by the lush vegetation that lined the Saleph river of Turkey, June 10, 1190. The high-pitch cry of a lone eagle carried out through the valley on invisible wings of sound. The army of crusaders below did not stir at the sound, with the exception of a few of the younger ones. The smart ones. If they knew the sound, knew some of it's many meanings, they would be on their feet, swords drawn. Instead the unknowing Germans indulged themselves in food and talk, a daily ritual often preformed before a night of rest.

Their leader was not amongst them, though, as he should have been. The filth of being in such a strange and alien place had gotten the better of the man. Where the crusaders had stopped to make camp, was only a wall of tall bushes away from the river. This allowed the leader to cleanse himself with privacy and out of the sight of his men. His first mistake. He had also brought along one man to keep watch while he bathed, to look out for any enemies that might attack during his time of vulnerability. That was the second mistake.

This is a time of war, the age of the crusades. One should learn that it is better to be cautious than bold. To be careful rather than naïve. This was survival of the fittest.

Fredrick Barbarossa, holy emperor of Germany. He was conspiring with the French in an attempt to take back Jerusalem. He, and his army of many, had already passed through Hungary, Serbia and then entered Byzantine territory. Barbarossa was now heading towards Antioch from Armenia.

Maybe this man felt what he was doing was "holy" or "righteous" but the fact was that he desired power like all the others. Wanted to expand territory until all was under his and his ally's control. Then who knows. Greed can overcome a holy man to the point that he turns on those at his side. This movement, these crusades, were costing the lives of several and disrupting the peace of both sides. Even through barbaric methods, the men and organizations framing these wars must be stopped.

Barbarossa had removed his armor, his body already submerged waist deep in the fast flowing river. He was a middle age man, his face sharp and square shaped with a large nose. It was obvious where "Barbarossa" originated from. The man had a very defined red beard twisting down from his rough face, matching his wavy red hair.

As my target continued to shed his clothes, my breathing sub-consciously became shallow and even, not even stirring the leaves obscuring my face. My pulse slowed and my heart beat was silent to even my own ears. All sound faded away. This was the instinct of my teachings. The training from birth to master this morbid art.

There was a long sigh from next to me as my partner positioned himself. Both of his feet dug into the earthen ground, shoulder width apart, as he pulled back the string of a small bow. The wood creaked under the immense pressure but was no where near to breaking in its master's grip. The arrow tip peeked out from the bushes, the dulled head glimmering ever so slightly. Then stillness.

Barbarossa began to remove his undershirt. My partner's breathing ceased. There was that split moment when the crusader's guard was down and the moment was taken advantage of. A brief sharp whistle as the arrow whizzed past Barbarossa's face. Then the sound of metal and wood sliding into flesh and bone. There was a brief cry of either surprise or pain.

I do not believe Barbarossa's companion had time to realize what had just impaled his skull. His eyes crossed, his mouth hung open, and his body swayed. He fell down to the ground like a sack of rice. Dust rose up around the twitching body.

Barbarossa glanced back to see his man laying face down, blood seeping from his head. My body moved; an unconscious movement. Sound was remained silent with the exception of my beating heart, taking pleasure from the adrenaline rush. Barbarossa turned back at the sound of splashing water, mute to my ears, but by that time I was already in the air above him, positioned in a crouch. The white hood that obscured my face fell back. The eagle cried out above once again, the sound to break the silence, followed by the blade on my left wrist sliding out from its cover. Time froze for those split few seconds.

Contact. My body collided with his as did my blade. Metal sliding through the muscle of one's neck is a melody I had long been accustom to. Blood gurgled in the back of Barbarossa's throat as he tried to draw his last breath. Water rose up as his large figure dropped into the river, releasing ripples of both water and blood. Knowing he was dead, I stood, the water rising to my torso and I made my way to the bank, not glancing back until I reached the sandy surface. The body of Fredrick Barbarossa was gently carried down river by the current. Any hope of leaving _his_ body as a warning was now out of the question. But…

I turned back to the body of the second man. My partner was already preparing to send the body after its master.

"No, Haydar." I said. He looked up at me with golden brown eyes. "Leave his body for the others to find. Then maybe they shall have a slight idea of what befell their master when his body is recovered."

Haydar laid the body back down gently and straightened. He put his hands together and dropped his head. There was no need to blend here, but that was just Haydar's habit. Respectful to all victims, whether they be his or another's.

I let out a long sigh that dragged out longer than necessary. Reaching back, I pulled the hood back over my face, though there was no one to hide it from. By twisting the tails of my robe, the water that had burdened the fabric released itself on to the bank.

Haydar took and step in my direction. "Lisha…"

Voice rose up from the other side of the bushes, the one thing keeping us out of view form the crusaders. Neither Haydar nor I could understand the language but the tone of voice told us they had heard something. There was a clattering sound following the rushed voices.

"We should leave." Haydar said, saying the words slowly.

I nodded.

We took off up the bank, running against the rivers current. Though we were out of view, the cries of surprise and horror rose up towards our ears. We avoided crossing the river until we felt sure we had put good distance between ourselves and our foes. Crossing the river would slow down our pace and make us easy targets for airborne weapons. We mounted our horses, waiting for us near the top of the valley, and rode off without a glance back. Turkey was a long way from Masyaf and the journey home would take more than a few suns. Finding safe shelter and rest were our priority now.

We are the birds of prey. I have been trained from birth to understand and carry out this belief. We observe, swoop down and take the kill, only to flee the moment the task has been completed. We hid in plain sight, in the crowds, never arising direct suspicion. This is our way of living. I have been trained from birth, like the rest of my unrelated family, to master the art of the kill. The art of death.

_Author Notes: Not a long chapter, more like an introduction. Here we meet Lisha and Haydar the main protagonists of the story. There are a lot of theories surrounding the death of Fredrick Barbarossa, all that it clear is that he drowned, but I decided on the one where he bathed because that was the easiest to work with. Why did I decide on him? Don't know really, he died the year before Assassins Creed takes place so I found him a wise victim. But that is pretty much chapter two. I'm still experiencing a block for _Inazuma Ho_, so, sor__ry to my fans. I'm currently engaged in a cage fight with the block and I will continue with the story as soon as the bastard in bloody and beaten. So for now, please standby. _


	3. Confrontation in the Library

Chapter 3

Confrontation in the Library

_Arrogance diminishes wisdom_

_-_Arabic Proverb

Alamut. A fortress on a rock, six thousand feet up, in a landscape of bare peaks, forgotten lakes, steep cliffs and constricted passes. Even the most numerous army could only reach it one man at a time. The most powerful catapults could not touch its walls.

Between the mountains the Shah-Roud, nicknamed the "mad river", holds sway. In the spring, when the snows melt on the Elbourz, its flow swells up and races along, ripping up trees and boulders as it passes. Misfortune to anyone who comes too near, misfortune to any troops who dare to camp on its banks!

From the river and the lakes a thick, fleecy mist rises each evening, climbing up the cliff but stopping midway. For anyone who is there to see it, the castle of Alamut then becomes an island in an ocean of cloud. Seen from below, it looks like the haunt of the djinni.

Or, so the rumors of those who claim to have seen this place say. Legend has it, actually, that a prince was in search of a place to build himself a fortress that would dominate the mountains. He released an eagle whom he had trained himself to be a bird of wits and loyalty. The bird of prey spiraled and soared through the air and the clouds, crying out of freedom. The prince carefully tracked his beloved pet, keeping a careful eye on the magnificent creature. When the eagle finally came down to rest, it perched itself on a rock. The prince found the bird this way and observed the area, realizing there was not a better place to build his fortress. Alamut. The eagle's lesson.

People spread dark rumors of this place, but I had grown up here my entire life, embraced by its secure walls. It was a place of safety and beauty. The courtyard was tended with care and compassion, bringing a feel of peace about anyone who walked through. There was always talk of paradise and it's unmatchable beauty, but when I walk about Masyaf, about Alamut, and take in the beauty of the surrounding land, I feel there is no place in heaven or on Earth that can outmatch it. I felt beyond privileged to have been raised in such a place.

A place of peace, yet, this is where killers are bred. Alamut is home to my brothers and I. Home of the Hashashin. Young children were brought here at a young age to mature and learn the art of taking another's life. Some choose, others are given. If an assassin fathers a child, then it is likely that child shall follow in his footsteps. I was not given into this life, nor did I choose it.

Despite the nature of the fortress above, the village of Masyaf below was peaceful and content. We offered them protection in return for their loyalty and support. Life for the people was no different from any elsewhere. It did not bother them to see our kind mingled with their own. Catching a glimpse of a white hood didn't spook them in the least. In fact, it was not rare to see the two classes conversing with one another. An assassin must usually pass through the people to leave or return to Alamut.

Haydar touched my arm lightly and I followed his gaze. Near the center of the village was a man of dark skin leaning against a tree. The man smiled, his white teeth contrasting greatly with his dark skin, as he saw us approach.

"Lisha, Haydar," He called out as he raised his arms into the air. "It's good to see you have returned unharmed."

"Raouf," I greeted. "It is good to see you as well."

Haydar nodded.

"I have been praying, with out need I'm sure, that your mission was successful." The anticipation was not hidden well from his voice.

A smile formed on my lips. "Yes, your prayer has been put to good use, dear friend, for the mission was very successful. My advice to you, though, would be to save your requests of God for much more desperate event."

"Ah, child, but that is where you go wrong." Raouf said, shaking a finger at me. "Nothing is ever too great or too small for God."

I dipped my head. "I shall remember your advice."

"Is the master in the library?" The voice at my side asked.

"Of course, Haydar," Raouf said. "Where else would he be but buried in his books?"

"We should report to him." I looked back over my shoulder as I turned. "Safety and peace, brother."

"On you as well."

As we walked away from the fellow, Haydar turned a hooded face towards me.

"Are you really going to remember?" He asked, a dark eyebrow raised.

I smiled. "Probably not."

The library was not a large room, just a small section of the structure at the top of the open stairs. None the less, its books carried much a knowledge for those you read them and understood their texts. It was more often here than anywhere else where the master met those who returned with news of their missions. His favorite place to be.

Haydar and myself came to a stop in front of a desk placed in the center of library. The black hooded figure turned from his gaze out the window to face us. He had the look of one who was old and wise but strict. Al Mualim, master of the assassins. Men were willing to die and plummet off rooftops, for this man, no questions asked. He was trusted. I have nothing against the old man. He has been nothing but kind to me since I was found outside the village; raised me to be an assassin like my brothers despite my gender. Even though I loved him like family, I could never rid myself of the feeling that Al Mualim was hiding something. Something that lurked beneath his demeanor like a snake, waiting to strike out. Though I felt this way, I kept my mouth shut.

"Lisha, Haydar," Al Mualim greeted. "welcome back."

We both bowed our heads. "Master."

"I trust you have brought me news of your success."

I approached the desk. "That we have. Though I fear I do not have a marker, for the life was taken in the river," I allowed the blade on my wrist to side out, a faint red substance now dried on its surface. "I have left the blood of Fredrick Barbarossa on my blade as proof."

Al Mualim nodded. "Your news pleases me, I have no other missions for you as of now but I will call you if needed." He waved his hand, the sign we were excused. "Now go and clean your blade before rust damages it. Safety and peace upon you."

Haydar and I bowed our heads once again before taking our leave. Haydar headed towards the stairwell, stopping when he noticed my hesitation.

"Lisha, what's the matter?"

I shook my head. "Go on, I'll meet you in the tower, but I wish to stay here for awhile longer."

Haydar smiled. "Your love of books brings a space between us once again?"

I gave him a friendly shove towards the stairs. "Hesitate longer yourself and I will force you to remain here with me, friend."

Haydar laughed, a few notes of quite music that dripped from his mouth like honey, before he continued on down stairwell, nodding to the guards as he passed.

Haydar was both friendly and compassionate; I found the life of an assassin a strange choice for him to have gone with. Though he was skilled with a bow, many other weapons and the art of deception, he harbored a heart of gentle nature. I had never thought to ask but it was possible that he was one of the few born into this place. I respected his right to privacy.

The books in the library were plentiful and satisfying for those who chose to read them. I, like my master, spent most of my idle days in the library if not with Haydar. There was something that attracted me to the idea of burying myself in a paper and ink while soaking in the information they contained. I guess I enjoyed being well informed. Like always, I positioned myself against the bookshelf as I scanned through scrolled documents or a book. Though my mind was elsewhere, my ears did not fail to take in the sounds around me.

The first thing I heard was the sound of boots against the concrete floor along side the clicking of metal tapping against metal. Not an unusual sound, could've been anyone. My gaze remained fixed on my book. Then I grew more accustom to the tone. I was able to find a pattern in the steps, a familiar harmony I could distinguish well from any other gait. The patterned steps of confidence and insolence. My eyes inched up from the words on my current page.

He passed just feet away from where I stood. Both Admiration and loathe welled up somewhere deep in my mind as the six foot tall figure cast a shadow down on my own. Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad; Al Mualim's best man but not most favored. Everyone knew Altaïr; some respected him, other spread rumors of his arrogance. I was positioned on both sides of the debate. I respected his talents and confident nature, if not envied such gifts, but I still found it difficult to ignore the feelings of remorse and scorn I felt towards the man. Nearly four years had passed and still nothing had changed.

Now having lost interest in my reading, I watched Altaïr approach the desk of our master. Their heads nodded as they spoke, words of success and conceit, mostly at Altair's end, were exchanged. All questions were answered with riddles, which often led the impatient nature of the student to show through. None the less, their conversation ended with Altaïr bowing his head before turning and coming back the way he had come. I glanced back to Al Mualim, shaking his head before returning to his work.

Before his shadow could pass over me once again, a fellow assassin stopped him.

"Altaïr, my dear friend, it has been a while." He said.

"Rasul."

"The two of us have been very busy as of late, am I wrong?" Rasul, an assassin I did not know much about, but he seemed of good-nature and intentions, one of few who could still respect Altair. "Any news of Adha? I'm sure you have been searching."

Adha? I felt my face snap in the direction of the two men. A women? Since of when? Am I really kept so far such information?

Altaïr turned his face away.

"No?" Rasul said, I could hear the sincerity in the man's voice. "I am sorry. I'm sure you will find her one day. Safety and peace, brother."

"On to you as well." Altaïr responded, never once turning his eyes back to his friend.

Unable to contain the movement, I approached Altaïr as he drew closer. He turned his head to look at me ever so slightly. I could tell by his expression that he knew I had overheard his most recent conversation, that and he had no desire to speak with me; whether it be not at the moment or not ever, I could not figure. I struggled to find the right words to use.

"You stand in my way, Lisha." He remarked, saying each word carefully as if to get his point across.

"Altaïr, do you want to talk? You know I am here to listen." I nearly regretted the words the moment they slipped out of my mouth. "W-what I mean is that there are things we need to discuss. Things you have been putting off for four years."

I looked him in the eyes when I spoke the last statement, hoping it would my frustration clear. Altaïr looked back down at me with eyes that revealed he wasn't not going to break under the pressure.

"I have no reason to speak with you. This is wasting my time."

He pushed past me and continued on his way without a glance back. I had suffered his avoidance for a while now, it should not come as a surprise that he planned to continue the act. It didn't.

_Author notes: The first part of this chap was actually based off of a statement in __Amin Maalouf's novel: Samarkand. More of a descriptive chapter that anything. We meet __Altaïr and learn that him and Lisha obviously have a story, which will be made clearer later. Lol, Altaïr is very much an asshole at the start of the game and I feel bad making him seem like such a jerk after I've seen his good side.. Um, I brought Adha into the story and, uh, yeah, that's all I got._


	4. Isolation

Chapter 4

Isolation

_A horse of good breed is not dishonored by his saddle_

_-_Arabic Proverb

The image faded and I felt my mind return. The screen above my face slid away and I sat up, letting out a long sigh. I was still dizzy and the transition of memories made me a bit-what's the word?-queasy. I rubbed my face, a gesture that told me it was mine. I wouldn't have believed in the ability to travel back through genetic memories had I not just experienced it first hand. Though I found the concept neat (I mean, come on, what's not cool about running around in the crusader era as an assassin?), the transition left me light headed and a bit freaked out.

A cold hand placed itself on my shoulder and I jumped. I looked over to see the blonde assistant smiling at me. Her face was oval shaped with a slightly squared chin. Above her rounded nose sat two clear blue eyes. She was very pretty, the ideal blonde. For the first time I noticed the ID card around her neck that read "Lucy Stillman." She _seemed_ like someone I could trust but…

I looked over at Doc, and wanted to cringe away. Compared to his assistant's comforting face, his was, er… harsh. He face told me he frowned way too much, all the skin seemed to drag down. Though his beard was clean, and his hair, with the receding hair line, was combed neatly, it didn't give him a very trustworthy look. Not unless he gave me a reason to believe other wise, I was _not _trusting this old fart.

"You seem to be handling the treatment much better, Ms. Rivers." He said.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." I said.

"Well, I would suggest returning to your room and getting some rest. You're going to want to be refreshed for tomorrow."

With that he turned and headed towards a meeting room toward the back of the room, the glass windows giving a clear view of the scene. Taking advantage of his turned back, I flipped ol' Doc the bird. It was then, starring at my left hand, I noticed my amputated ring finger. Of course I had known it was there, but, I hadn't paid much attention to the detail for some time. It had been tradition, or so my uncle said, and _bam, _off it went. My ancestor was also decorated with the same trait.

I felt Lucy starring at my back and I quickly pulled my hand back, stroking the stump of flesh with my opposite hand.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Go for it." I said, crossing my legs as I spun around to face her.

She paused, biting down on her lower lip. "Vidic was asking if anyone was going to come looking for you, what did he mean?"

I stared at Lucy. At her eyes. Not only were they beautiful but they were filled to the brim with intelligence. My aunt was that kind of person. She had face with sharp details, framed by loosely spiraled brown hair. Her eyes could read a dog or the tea leaves at the bottom of a cup with just a glance. Nothing- and I mean nothing-got past her. She and Lucy were the same; the kind of person who didn't just ask questions to make conversation, but to learn. That's what my knowledge of reading people told me at least.

"Growing up I lived in a rural area of Okayama, it's a nice place, clean. Anyways, I lived with my uncle, Carter, and aunt, Shelia. My uncle had built our house out there, off the map; you couldn't find the place unless you were seriously searching."

"Why?"

"Dunno, really. Uncle said we were much safer out here, and that the only people we could trust were our fellow's around the world. They were the only people we could contact as well. I never met any of 'em. My uncle trained me in martial arts, and about any kind of self-defense you can name. Sometime we went into town, but we never used our real names, you know. We were all, incognito. When I turned fifteen I was allowed to leave the house but I was warned not to let my identity get out. I haven't been in contact with them ever since."

"You never even went to school?"

"My aunt taught me just about everything you could learn at school if not more."

Lucy paused a second time. "What about you parents?"

I shrugged. "I never knew 'em."

Her delicate eyebrows kneaded together. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently I was found on the steps of an orphanage, yeah cliché I know, but I grew up almost three years there before my aunt and uncle came and picked me up. They told me my parents had died, though they wouldn't tell me how."

"I'm sorry." Lucy said sympathetically, placing a hand on her chest.

I smiled. "Don't be, can't miss a two strangers I didn't know right?"

Lucy sighed. "No, I suppose not."

The blonde turned and walked away, scribbling on her notepad. I slid from off the Animus and followed after her. Though she was probably a few years older that me, we were about the same height.

"So," I began as Lucy sat down in a chair. "Now that I given you my life story, wanna tell me what I'm doing here?"

She didn't even glance up from her notepad. Lucy had heard me, but she was choosing to act like she didn't. I waited patiently, starring down at the way her hair was pulled back tightly, different shades of blonde strained to be styled. Words of a one of my co-workers came to mind. A few minutes turned to seven and it became obvious that Lucy wasn't going to become unnerved by my presence. Nor was she going to answer my question. Frustration began to heat.

"You gonna answer my question, or not?" I asked.

Lucy let out an impatient sigh. "Look, Sistine, I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry my ass!!" I blurted. "Isn't Abstergo, like, a drug company? For pharmacies and shit?! Why the hell would I be kidnapped to be a lab rat for some 'genetic memory' machine?!"

"I really am sorry." Lucy insisted. "Besides, Abstergo is so much more than-" Her mouth snapped closed and she paused, looking around. "I-I can't talk about it. You should turn in."

I was smart enough to know that her last statement meant this conversation was over. I wanted to continue pressing but, I had admit that using the Animus did wipe me out a bit. Besides, maybe if I was able to ease questions towards my captors and at least collect tid-bits of information, I might get a vague idea of what I was doing here.

"Hey, Lucy?"

She turned to me as I began to walk towards my "room."

"I wouldn't suggest pulling your hair back that tightly." I said. "It's bad for your skin."

I didn't get a response. I wasn't expecting one. The door of my quarters slid open and I stepped in side cautiously. It was a small place, the colors as bland and lifeless as the rest of the building. I was given a queen sized bed, a glass desk (complete with plastic chair) and a closet placed next to some shelves. Cheery. What was even worse was that there were no clothes in the closet. What was the point then? To my right was a large and rather empty looking bathroom. Everything here was so clean and perfect looking, made me want to break stuff and reek havoc.

"Pleasant dreams, Ms. Rivers." A voice said from behind me followed by the sound of released air pressure.

I looked back quickly to see the door of the room being closed, Vidic standing just outside, before the lock blinked to red. The bastards locked me in. Damn. Obviously they didn't trust me, with good reason. Which meant I was stuck in this room till they let me out. Double damn. There was a loud rumbling sound and my stomach churned.

"Oi! Doc!" I called out, pressing up against the wall. "You got some food? I'm starving in here! I haven't eaten since you guys grabbed me and I don't even know how long ago that was."

Well, the last thing I had eaten had been that chocolate bar, which wasn't exactly what you could call nourishing. Even though I was pretty sure they weren't going to be feeding me, I enjoyed the idea of possible being a nuisance.

"You know, a big fat burger with onions and barbecue sauce sounds pretty good!" I continued, testing how far I push could push the limits. "Oh wait, no, scratch that, how bout some nice carne asada? Mmmm, grill it up with some lime juice, marinate it in some salsa. Oh! Make sure you serve it up with some corn cakes and tortillas, with a side of salad. You know, the kind from El Torito? How about that Doc? Sound good don't it? Think you could bring me a gameboy or somethin while you your at it? Hmm?"

No reaction. Either theses walls were sound proof or I was being ignored. Not only did I succeed in failure but I made myself even more hungry. Karma; it has a way of coming back around and biting you in the ass. I sighed and slammed my forehead into the door. Shit, this was bad. I was in a place, well, a place that _supposedly_ sold prescription drugs. It was cold, like a damn hospital, the though made me shiver (and not from the low temperature). I had no way of escaping, any time soon at least. And worst of all, I was hungry. My stomach always, _always_, came first.

With heavy and angst steps, I dragged myself over to bed and flopped down. The pillow next to me jumped into the air slightly before settling back down. I glared at it over my arm.

"You calling me fat, bitch?" I snarled, with not much enthusiasm.

The pillow sat there, looking plump, soft and plushy. If the thing had a face I would be laughing, I swear. Now that I looked harder, though, I noticed some of the wrinkles in the fabric looked like a wide smile. Yeah, laugh all you want but you stuck here with me all the same.

My revenge on the smug pillow? I plopped my head down on it and wiggled myself around to get comfy, imagining the stuffed bag screaming out in mercy. Satisfied, I pulled the dull grey blankets up to my nose and curled up into a ball. Ugly as they were, they did their job by keeping me warm through the night. They did their job well.

-------------

I groaned softly, my body telling me to wake up but my mind protesting greatly. I pressed my face farther into the pillow, which smelled like old cloth. The blankets around me weren't keeping me warm enough, so I pulled them tighter around my body. Geez, what time was it?

I had this strange feeling I was being watched but I ignored it. Damn, did I really have to get up? Five more minutes? My wanna-be-mother body wouldn't even allow me that. This mental struggle continued for a bit before I raised the hands along with the white flag. I cracked open an eye.

I wished I hadn't.

"Whoa!" I cried out, jumping back, which was a movement handicapped by the surrounding blankets.

Vidic had been right there, hovering over my face when that first eye had popped open. Now _that _was disturbing. Even now he still regarded me calmly, as if I was just some animal he had had startled.

"Yeah, uh, that's not creepy at all Doc, waking up to you standing over me and all." I said when I had finally scooped my mind up off the floor. "Apparently it's not creepy enough to kidnap a girl, you've gotta watch me sleep too?"

Vidic straightened, his expression never changing. He turned around smoothly, a uninterrupted movement, and walked over towards the now open door. Woot, freedom…well, sort of.

"Come along, Ms. Rivers, we have more work to do." He said, obviously not fazed by my reaction or preparing to offer an explanation.

I scooted off the bed and followed after him, my bare feet making a quite slapping sound against the hard floor. Lucy was already out there by the Animus, typing away on a computer. She gave me a quick smile before returning to her work.

I glanced out the windows. It was bright and sunny out there, a few light weight clouds sprinkled here and there. Some tree tops were visible, swaying in some invisible breeze. Birds preformed figure eights as they chased one another. Though it was barley audible, they chirped high pitch notes without pattern. I really, really needed out of this place.

"Now, lie down on the Animus, Ms. Rivers." Vidic instructed, gesturing towards the machine. "The sooner we start and the farther we get, the sooner we can be done."

I looked at the odd contraption, then looked back out the window. I sighed mentally and hopped up on the Animus. The moment my head was down, the screen slid above my face. There was that bright light and I found myself getting pulled into another era.

_Author notes: Chapter about Sistine where we got a glimpse into her past. I didn't want to make it like Desmond's, where as he grew up on The Farm, so I changed it around a bit. It's hard to figure out how to have Sistine react to her situation because me, honestly, would be reacting similar, if not worse, to being in a strange place and being strapped to a stranger machine like Desmond. The two of us are pretty similar….mmm, carne asada. _


	5. Hesitation

Chapter 5

Hesitation

"Success has many fathers, while failure is an orphan."

-Proverb

It sits on a promontory that juts out to the sea. Waves crash on the rocks below; a sound of comfort that lets people know it's greatest natural resource did not slip away in the night. Yet, as lush a city and area this was, it was not a place of reassurance as of now. Recently taken over my Richard the Lionheart, Acre was now a place of shadows and destruction. The streets were oppressive and dark, a bit foggier and less bright than how they had once been. People did not smile like that had only months before. They went about their lives but when a destroyed structure was passed, the look of depression that overcame their face was hard to ignore. A city surrounded by the mood of death.

Thousands of Saracens had been killed, executed and slaughtered here, leaving the majority of the population to be Turks, Europeans. Richard the Lionheart. He was a man who claimed to be a worker of God, believing in what he felt was right. Was claiming the lives of many righteous? How many women and children would grieve for the men they knew were never coming home to enjoy a meal and warm the bed? Richard's methods seemed barbaric compared to those of Saladin. When taking back Jerusalem four years ago, Saladin was placed with the lives of the inhabitants. Instead of massacring the people-as the crusaders had done in 1099- he allowed them to be ransomed and released without harm.

Where the Franks eighty-eight years before had waded through the blood of innocents, not a building was looted, not a person was injured. Instead, Saladin protected the Christians from any outrages against them. When he announced he would liberate every aged man and women, the ladies came to him in tears. They had husbands and fathers who had either been slain or captured. He answered that he would release every captured husband and, to the widows and orphans, he gave gifts from his own treasury. Compared to the methods of the Crusaders, Saladin's methods seem strange and generous.

Even so, Saracens and Crusaders alike were contributing to the war. They fought and lives were lost while the innocent coward in terror. Besides, just because Saladin had the heart of a saint did not mean his men were the same. Some of them were as barbaric and cruel as the Crusaders. I had also seen my share of good-hearted men on the Christians side as well. My job, though, is not to take a side. My duty is to stop the war, to take down those who are kindling to the flame. A small sacrifice for the greater good.

I had stalked my prey carefully. Roamed the city of Acre, eavesdropping on the conversations of the people and forcing information of those connected to my target. It was always fun to watch how easy it could be to make someone squeal their secrets, while it was admirable how strongly others clung to their beliefs.

Hector Vonburg IV, a crusader in the Knight's Templar. He was no one important, his own general probably didn't even know the man's name. The only thing that made him stand out was his naked face. He had no beard on him like all the other Crusaders, which was a sign of manhood. Hector was probably teased often because of this missing detail. Some said he was a man of kindness, helped out those in the poorer districts. Yet, a person who I had drawn information from, through _persuasive_ methods, claimed he had witnessed his liege exchanging notes with a Saracen. His quick responding tongue had not been able to answer my questions afterwards so I silenced it.

My prowling finished and my thirst for information quenched, I had returned to the Bureau to receive permission to take the kill. When Hector was located, I stalked him with care, watching the man from the shadows. He had a young face, of mid twenties to early thirties. He always seemed to wear a smile, always greeting those around him and shaking the hands of some. A good man on the surface but what dark intentions lurked beneath? I was eager to know.

He stopped at the local church to attend the service. I would attack when he emerged. Guards and fellow Crusaders would be with him but the surrounding crowd could be turned to my advantage. Besides, Haydar would be there to remove any obstacles during my escape. We were the most efficient duo of Alamut. While I was tasked with taking out the main target, Haydar would put to use his long distance combat skills to take care of the underlings.

Crouched down on the railing of the church balcony, I waited. Every now and again I would catch a glimpse of white on the surrounding rooftops. The crowd buzzed below, oblivious. Despite the recent war that and just taken place here, Acre was still lively. Children ran after one another with sticks, pretending to be a Crusader or Saracen. The black smith worked hard in his shop, pounding down metal and shaping it into a blade. Today, my work shall be noticed by the masses.

The bell rung above me. The sermon had ended. I listened and continued to wait, until the doors swung open with a deep and heavy sigh. I stayed my position. Hector emerged, tall and dressed like an average Templar, his dark brown hair caught in the wind. Two other Templars were with the man, along with three guards that had been positioned by the church. The six men chatted with one another and the priest even shook hands with Hector. My body underwent a familiar transition as I prepared for the kill.

_Just a few more steps. _

There was a moment when Hector stooped down and seemed to pick something up, I guessed it was a dropped item of his. He put some space between himself and the others because of this; his fellow Templars in front of him and the guards still back a couple feet. The bell rung a second time and I jumped.

Air rushed past and the world blurred until I landed in the opening between the Crusaders and the guards, just feet from my prey. The group around me starred, stunned, and a guard gasped as he stepped back. I straightened immediately and ran for Hector. The blade slid from my wrist followed by a scream. Hector turned at the sound, starring down at me with two wide blue eyes. But, there…there in his arms, was a boy of no more than five.

I froze.

_A child?_

The smile that had once been on the boy's face faded as he saw me and Hector's own face was a twist of surprise and fear. I had my blade not even an inch from his throat. Damn, just one swift movement, that was all that was needed. Yet, I lacked the will to move. Just like last time

There was the sound of metal being drawn from behind me and I looked over my shoulder slowly. A guard had finally gathered his wits about him, drawn his sword and raised it up to strike me down. Before he could swing the blade, something shot through the crowd and pierced the man's neck, chain mail and all. I regained my senses at the sight of the bolt, as did the guards around me. The tune of unsheathing swords rung throughout the street, occasionally supported by a high-pitched scream.

I drew the sword at my side, a fine blade of silver, and glanced up at the surrounding roof tops. Haydar was positioned nearby, loaded crossbow in hand. A guard came at me from the side, signaling the start of the blood fest. I swung upward, knocking the guard back. While he regained his balance, I turned to my other opponents. Other nearby guards had noticed the commotion and come to the aid of their fellows. There was a moment when I was sure there were to many of them.

_Our ability to adapt makes us who we are._

A second bolt shot straight into the forehead of a man positioned in front of me, and my doubt was dispelled. Moments later another was shot into a guards heart. I hacked and sliced my way through the river of armor, while my partner took out those who dared try to attack from behind. During the brawl, a large Templar grabbed me from behind, obviously unaware of my gender. A squeak of a cry slipped from my lips at his touch. I quickly planted an elbow in his face, both hearing and feeling the crack of his nose, and he released me. I whirled around as he stumbled back, staring at me with stupidity and a bloody nose. I planted a fist in his stomach before releasing my hidden blade. The man breathed out a sharp gasp and fell back.

I turned quickly, remembering Hector. I watched as his bark colored hair pushed through the crowd and vanished. I ran after him, pushing people to the side.

"Stop him!" A guard cried out from behind me. "Stop the Assassin!!"

Pushing became tackling, people were knocked to their knees or down on their back. Every now and then I had to maneuver through a group of thugs, who were much to large for me to simply push aside. None the less, my pursuit quickly became a failure as I lost the Templar in the sea of faces and guards began to pile up behind me. Escape was the best of my options at this time.

We Hashashin, we're much closer to our animal counterparts than the average human being. We understand the laws of the predator, along with the laws of nature. Fight or flight. This is how the nature of the hunt moves. We either fight when faced with a life threatening situation, fight until we come out victorious or dead; or we flee. Sometimes our main objective is completed or lost and our only remaining option that holds a higher chance of survival is to run. My instinct told me to do such.

I turned down a nearby alleyway suddenly, hoping to throw off my pursuers. Someone grabbed me by the back of the tunic and pulled me onto the awning of a nearby building. I spun around to attack but Haydar grabbed my hand before I could strike. We didn't have time to converse for a group of guards quickly spotted us. We climbed up the wall until we reached the roof where we set on a run, in search of a place to hide. The guards had climbed to the roofs as well and were not far behind. I followed Haydar, jumping from building to building, as he scanned the area. Fortunately for us, my partner had mapped out the area before hand and had a pretty good idea of where to go. I glanced back over my shoulder but had no time to really see, for Haydar had taken me by the arm and pulled me with him as he jumped from the roof. We plummeted down and landed harshly in a cart of hay. It was not a long fall, but it was enough to leave a bruise.

We both remained silent until the harsh cries of the Turks grew fainter and finally disappeared. The memories of the child in Hector's arms and the mission's failure quickly flooded back to me as I grew calmer. My conscious steadily reverted back to it's dazed state. Haydar took me by the arms and stared at me hard, though I wasn't there enough to look him in the eyes.

"What was that, Lisha?" He said, hard and steadily.

I continued to stare into nothingness. I had failed. I had failed a mission once again, just like with Altaïr four years ago. The memory of the look on the child's face came back to me. The small innocent face, round with large cheeks, stained with the expression of fear. Utter dread had filled those large chestnut colored eyes.

"Lisha? What is going on with you?!" Haydar continued, all traces of patience gone from his voice.

Haydar was practical. A specialist in what he does who does not look kindly upon failure. When faced with a task, he will scavenge every detail necessary to ensure the mission's success. When charged with something, all of his attention is focused on it. He is the kind to stick to a goal and follow it through to the end, even if it seems impossible. He is an individualist. The type who pay closer attention to their goals then their own feelings, making them seem cold on the surface. This was why only I could work with him. I understood his way of thinking. I allowed him to do things the way he felt best and he always chose whatever would benefit us. Haydar was not cold, just a little withdrawn and hard to understand, but he had a good heart, one of the best I had ever seen. His obsession for success sometimes got the better if him, though.

I shifted my gaze slowly to look up at my partner and friend. His face was twisted with frustration that flowered from both his anger and confusion. My lips trembled as I tried to come up with a way to express what I felt, as I search to a way to understand it myself. I looked several places, until I found my severed ring finger. I stared at it. The child's horrified face came back to mind.

"Shahin…" I mumbled.

"Speak sense, Lisha!" Haydar demanded, giving me a good shake.

"I don't know!" I wailed, my voice so distraught I found it hard to realize it was mine. I buried my face in my hands. "I won't kill in front of a child, Haydar! I can't!!"

I grabbed at clumps of my hair and pulled in it, as if trying to hide in the auburn mess.

"I just can not will my body to move. It refuses!! My conscious will not allow me to kill in the presence of a child! That bastard, Hector! I do not understand."

I felt the need to make myself as small as possible. Warm arms took me into Haydar's embrace and I accepted the gesture gladly.

"It's not your fault, Lisha." My partner said.

"Of course it is."

"Your moral felt the action was wrong." He continued. "Failure only arises from the refusal to try again."

I sighed deeply, calm coming over me once again. I could feel my old self slowly returning and pushing the weaknesses back into the recesses of my conscious.

"What shall we tell Al Mualim?" I asked after the long silence. "The master does not take kindly to failure."

Haydar laughed his quiet laughter, his shoulders shaking steadily.

"We will simply explain what happened and I shall stand beside you the whole way."

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

We ascended the stairway to the library, as we had many times before. I didn't not see the stairs unfold before me, though, did not feel myself steadily elevate with each step. No, only the memory of climbing these stairs kept me headed in the right direction. The closer we drew to the top, the heavier my steps became and the lighter the sensation in my head became. I tried to keep my breathes steady and even, but that instinct I had mentioned ealier was asking my body to flee.

We had stopped at the Bureau and told the Rafiq all that had occurred in our mission. Acre's Rafiq was a kind man, deep in years and wise. Upon our return with the grim news, he had noticed my mental distance and ask of my condition. Though I had hesitated at first, I gave the man a brief explanation of what was lurking in my mind. He listened with both his ears and eyes, explaining that I understand the difference between right and wrong, that my mind was telling me something. Something I should learn to listen to. The Rafiq said I should relay what I had told him to Al Mualim, so that he could offer me his guidance. After I thanked the man and offered him peace and safety, Haydar and I left.

Now, climbing the steps to the library, I found that telling what I had told the Rafiq would be much more difficult to tell the master. All I could see was the stern face of Al Mualim, and look similar to what he had given me when I had failed once before. Only I knew this failure would have the back up of the last. I feared being stripped of my rank, removed from certain missions, or even of being separated from Haydar. I prayed to whatever God lay up above to grant the master a lenient attitude.

After what seemed like many heavy steps and dragging minutes, we reached the desk of Al Mualim. His nose was buried in a book and he did not even glance up to greet us.

"Lisha, Haydar," He said, his voice not really all that interested in the greeting. "Welcome and pray tell what news you have brought me. The two of you have been performing well lately."

I exchanged a quick glance with Haydar, who smiled and stepped forward to speak. I thanked him silently for his kindness, taking the burden of introducing the situation off my shoulders.

"I am glad that you praise us, master, but I fear we do not deserve it." He began. "For we come back to you with news of our failure."

Al Mualim looked up from his book. His face held no emotion of anger or scorn, only the fact that his blank expression had become harder. While Al Mualim began to look over us, I hung my head. As I did so, I noticed a familiar figure conversing with a fellow Assassin. Suddenly the situation dropped from uncomfortable to humiliating. Though he spoke to another, though his eyes were looking nowhere but at his companion, I new his ears were watching Haydar and myself. I had hardly seen him in the passing year and I had not spoken to him since after I assassinated Fredrick Barbarossa. I felt as though God had abandoned me as I caught the nearly hidden face of Altaïr just feet away from where is stood.

"Lisha," Al Mualim said and I quickly shifted my attention back to my master. "Care to explain what happened."

"W-well, master," I began, forcing myself to remain calm. "I let my weakness get the better of me. I take the full blame and promise to devote myself to training until I can overcome my mental instability is secure."

"You're avoiding my question," Al Mualim said, a stern tone just barley present. "I asked for you to explain, not how you would solve the problem."

I lifted my gaze up till it met Al Mualim's. I stared at the his blind right eye and wondered what had replaced it's lost of sight. Could it see though me? What was it telling him? I sighed.

"Hector turned as I was about to take the kill." I paused. "I hesitated because of the child in his arms."

Al Mualim stared at me and I knew that the event of four years ago was filling up his memory. Altaïr was staring as well too, my words catching his attention. It almost surprised my that he remembered. With his ignorance I would have figured he had rid himself of the failure and everything that had followed in the month after.

"You have come to me with this excuse before, Lisha," My master said after the awkward pause. The edge of harshness was creeping into his voice. "I believed this problem to have been resolved a long time ago."

"As did I, master," I said, my voice feeling dry. "but I cannot will myself to kill in front of a child. I cannot bare the thought of forever staining an innocent mind."

Al Mualim was staring at me hard now.

"Lisha, you cannot bring your own past into your-"

"This has nothing to do with my past!!" I yelled, losing control of my emotion. "I have told time and time again how I have no interest in my past! I left all that behind when I came to you with the request to be trained as an Assassin!!!"

It felt like the whole fortress had gone silent. Everyone in the room had locked their eyes on me, I could feel it. Haydar stared at me in shock which was almost matched by the look on Altaïr's face. I had never raised my voice to the master, I had always been obedient and concealing of my emotions.

When what I had done finally settled in my mind, I felt the embarrassment spread across my face. I dropped my head submissively, like a dog when it exposes its stomach.

"Master, Forgive-"

"Well, your actions have not violated the tenets of the Creed," Al Mualim cut in. "but I will still have a punishment prepared for you to ensure this does not happen again. You are dismissed until then."

"Master, I wish to-"

"You are dismissed, Lisha." He said sternly, glaring at me.

I bowed my head and turned, walking away as quickly as possible. Anywhere was better than here. Anywhere!! But I need peace and quiet, somewhere where I could meditate. But getting away is never simple, even in everyday activities.

"Guess nothing much has changed since the last four years."

I whirled around to face Altaïr whom was standing barley a foot from me. I wrenched the hood from off my head as I strut up to him.

"Say it again." I growled, my voice filled with nothing but impatience.

I had never been anything but respectful and kind to this man. I had never cursed him or assaulted him with malice. I had admired him ever since I was a child and all I got was being treated as an inferior. There was a time when he had looked at me with respect but that many suns ago when his sudden changed has left him arrogant and spiteful.

"Four years should have given you time to overcome that weakness of yours," He repeated as if stating a well known fact. "I expected better of you."

"Stay your tongue, Altaïr!" I whispered harshly, glaring up at him. "Lest you want it ripped from your mouth."

"You threaten me?" He said, amusement forming in his tone. "What happened to your kind nature towards your allies?"

"I'll show you the "kind nature of allies" when I put my blade to your throat, you ass." I hissed. "You were just as much apart of the failure as I, and that is not the only thing you have failed to take responsibility for!!"

The amusement is Altaïr's face melted slowly and was replaced by confused recognition. Not wanting to ask about the change I turned back around and marched out towards the one place I thought could bring me peace. No one greeted my as I rushed past. They just stared at me with looks of confusion. I had a feeling every Assassin in Alamut had heard me raise my voice to the master. Suddenly, for the first time in almost fourteen years, I wanted my mother.

_Author notes: *deep sigh* Ooooh, that was intense, but nothing compared to what is later to come. I has so much to explain, I bet I'm driving some of you nuts about what happened four years ago, huh? Well, it will still be a while till I tell you so HAH!!!_

_So, longer than my other chapters and very revealing about both Haydar's and Lisha's characters. Obviously Altaïr is as big of an asshole as ever, which really hurts to portray him this way because I really like him and he such a sweetie by the end of the game._

_Hector Vonburg IV is not, I repeat NOT, an actual historical figure. It's hard to find victims so I gonna make up a handful of them, not that it really matters, apparently our history lessons have been tampered with anyway, lol. _


	6. Dreaming

Chapter 6

Dreaming

"Like the dreams, Children of night, of indigestion bred."

-Charles Churchill

Sitting up in the Animus, my head started to spin steadily and I was filled with a lightheaded sensation. But when I had finally overcome that feeling I realized how sore my back and butt were. It felt like I had been in there longer than last time. Rubbing my temples, I looked over to Lucy. She was typing rapidly on the computer and Doc was standing not to far with a look of impatience. I had the sudden gut feeling that I was in the middle of something I did not want to be.

"If I leave her in there any longer, Warren, the Animus will over heat and could malfunction." Lucy said, I could tell from her voice that she had said this before. "Then we'll have nothing to work with until it's repaired."

"Alright, alright." Doc said, his voice as frustrated as Lisha's had been. "Pull her out and send her to her chambers. I'm in a bad mood."

He stomped off with that, heading into the conference looking room. I watched the scene with guilty amusement. Lucy sighed and shook her head. I felt a bit sorry that she was stuck working for a grouch like him, but she seemed used to it.

"Does he always got a stick up his ass or is he on his masculine period?" I asked the blonde.

She smiled at the question, which made me a little happy that I was able to amuse her. She continued to type for awhile though before she finally turned to me.

"You can't blame him, Vidic is under a lot of stress these days. Having to maintain a subject is always stressful for him." Lucy explained. "He can be a good guy at times but, it'll be pretty rare if you could experience one of those moments."

I slid off the Animus as she turned and walked over to the other computer on the desk top. I followed after her and watched her work for a while. Lucy seemed satisfied with working here but there was something sad about the her behavior. The way she walked, the way she typed even. I stared down at my severed finger.

"You're a prisoner here too, aren't you?"

Lucy stopped typing abruptly. She continued to stare at the screen, watching the blinking line on the screen that waited for her to continued typing, her body rigid and unmoving.

"You're no more free than I am," I continued. "Unable to leave."

Lucy continued to type.

"I take my duties at Abstergo very seriously." She said stiffly. "You must be tired, you should get some rest."

An obvious lie but I was smart enough to know when a conversation has been closed. Besides, there was truth in her words; I was tired. I didn't feel like arguing. I just wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Something about the memory had left me feeling depressed, like something inside I couldn't understand had been crushed. Somehow, I knew that it all connected back to that bastard Assassin and something in Lisha's past I was unaware of. What had happened four years ago that had left Lisha so devastated? Whatever it was, it had hurt her deeply had was still causing her pain. I could _feel_ it, almost.

I dragged myself to my chambers as I pondered this, already realizing my brain could not handle so much thought after using the Animus. The door locked moments after I walked in but I hardly noticed. The pillow jumped yet again as I dropped onto the blanket surface, but instead of growing angry at a immobile object, I took it in my arms and hugged it to myself. Lisha had wanted her mom, but who was mine?

_I stumbled a little, my legs steadily growing weaker. How long had I been walking? It felt like ages. Putting as much pressure as on my bleeding arm, I continued down the dirt road on my soft bare feet. It had begun to rain not to long ago and…and it felt nice. It didn't rain very often and the water was cool against my skin of heated pain. The sound was soothing too, calming the questions and need to understand that filled my mind. _

_We, my mother and I, were uneducated, poor but happy. What could have possibly drawn out this misfortunate? They were like ghosts with thick blood painting the crosses on their chests. Metal sat upon their pale brows and the steeds had a wild look in their eyes, as if possessed. They had appeared so suddenly, a look of fury and determination in their eyes. And…and I think I saw a women amongst them but I couldn't see very well. Mother told me to hide. I did so. Mother told me to stay quiet. I did so. They spoke to here as I hid in the rough terrain. They spoke to her in tongues I did not understand, but Mother spoke back in the same tone. Then, though I couldn't understand her crime, they cut her down. Diagonally, from the left shoulder to her right hip. Blood every where. She turned around with what little life she had in her. She looked at me with eyes already long dead. Pale hazel eyes that were looking not at me, but something beyond. They grabbed her, her body, and carried her off. I stayed hidden. I stayed quiet. _

_Wondering for who knows how long had brought me to a small village but my legs carried me on. I could've collapsed. I could've stopped at one of the small homes and asked for shelter. But my mind was barley conscious and it was my body that led me on now. Every step was more painful than the last. The rugged terrain had left my soft bare feet, cut and infected. I was bleeding at the arm from a large rock I had bumped against wrong. What had I done to deserve this? Mother had been the lucky one._

_Then I saw it, rising before me like a kingdom of stone. I didn't know what it was, just that it was huge, like a castle built for a noble. I was awe struck, and for a moment I became completely conscious. It was frightening but beautiful, strong but comforting. A bird of some sort cried out above. I wanted to look up, but my legs began to shake and the edges of my vision were fading to black. There was the sound of water and I realized I had fallen into a large puddle. It felt nice. Like my Mother's arms wrapping around me in a tender embrace. Before I slipped into whatever awaited me, I caught a glimpse of a reflection in my puddle. Tall, with a hidden face that rippled in the water mirror. A figure clad in white. _

~*~*~*~*~*~

He found her in the garden, a strange but not unlikely place for her to be. Anyone who was stressed would hide away here, surrounded by the beautiful women, but this was obviously not the reason Lisha had come. The place was a lush hideaway, filled with greenery and life. The water was as clear as rain and echoed through the peace with a sense of purpose. It's purpose? To bring a feeling of calm and security upon all who listened. Birds would add to the sound with their music and the encouraging sound of their beating wings as a bird of prey approached with a screeching cry. A tune that reminded them who they were. Who Lisha was.

She sat on the stone railing at the edge of the garden, her back against one of the pillars. One leg was outstretched and the other bent up to make a resting place for her right arm, while her left hand fiddled with her hair. It was one of the few feminine habit's the young Assassin possessed. Her thin long finger would gently weave through her hair before twirling in like thread. A sign Lisha was on edge and deep in thought.

Haydar wondered what was filtering through her mind. What thoughts obscured her vision? What shame crawled through her skin by the thought of raising her voice to the man who had not only taken her in but allowed her to join their private sect? A small detail came back to Haydar, something that had happened after they were dismissed. What sharp words had Lisha exchanged with Altaïr? That dark glare of both hate a pain had not appeared on her face unnoticed. Haydar knew that shortly after her promotion Assassin, Lisha had been paired up with Altaïr and from what he had heard the two worked together extremely well. But then it all stopped and Haydar was put in the same duo as Lisha. Now the cold shoulder the two gave one another stood out like an ass amongst steeds.

Curious as he was, Haydar left it alone. He had no right to meddle in the personal affairs of his partner. As long as the job was done and she didn't decide to kill him while he slept, then life went on. Although he felt a strange feeling of jealously that his partner had been with someone else before him. He liked the way that he and Lisha worked together and the knowledge that she had also worked well with Al-Mualim's right hand man almost seemed threatening to him. What if they got over their differences and decided to work together again? Would Haydar be left alone? He wasn't used to performing the direct assassinations. What if they paired him up with another? Someone who didn't understand him as well as Lisha?

Haydar suddenly realized he was thinking too much. With a deep breathe and a nervous smile he wiped the thought clean from him mind. Starring once again at Lisha, he wondered whether he should approach her. The sun was setting and it cast an orange glow on her pale skin and auburn hair. A smile crept onto his lips as he stared at the women. Lisha was very beautiful, her Arabic and obvious European heritage blended well. Haydar had no interest in her, though. The twenty-three year old Assassin had already decided he wanted a humble wife, kind and loving, with dark hair and eyes. She would be supportive of his work and offer wise advise, while raising their children all the while. And one thing Haydar was sure off was that he wasn't going to marry a fellow Assassin.

He did not hold any feelings for Lisha beyond friendship, but that didn't stop the emotion that filled him when fellow Assassins tried to capture her interest. While he should have known by now that Lisha was as about ready to fall for them as easily as she would a snake, he still always took on the defensive stance. Especially when ever Saqr was stalking about. Popular with the ladies and armed with a cockiness that rivaled Altaïr's arrogance, Saqr was constantly trying woo Lisha, or at least get her in his bed. He was a very able Assassin as well. It absolutely sickened Haydar and he was very grateful that his partner had a better head on her shoulders than most women.

Again pushing his thoughts from his mind, Haydar took one last glance at Lisha. Leaving her alone would be the best thing and decided to approach her in the morrow. He had his own thoughts to attend to and like most women, Lisha was testy when feeling a bit lost within herself. He turned and headed back the way he had come, receiving alluring but snobby smiles from the wandering women. He simply offered them a nod in return.

---------------------------------------

Gabriel sat up and rubbed his head, running his skinny fingers through the brown nest that made up his hair. He groaned softly and stretched out his arms, the grey sweat shirt he wore feeling stiffer by the day. He didn't need sleep, he need a change of clothes or someone to wash these ones. At least Haydar was able to wear clean clothes.

Gabriel turned to look at the short Japanese man typing on the Animus' computer. His hair was spiked up in a fluffy kind of style that looked natural on the guy. His almond eyes were serious and concentrated. But when he saw Gabriel was starring at him, the man flashed him a quick smile. Mr. Masashi (or Masashi-san) was a pretty friendly guy but he hardly talked, Gabriel figured he didn't know much English. He was pretty young too, about twenty, younger than himself. He had piercings in his ears and one in his lip, which usually matched with his array of necklaces and bracelets. A nice kid, as he said ealier, but a bit withdrawn.

Clareon was a bit different. Gabriel turned to look at the other man. He was tall, skinny, with wavy red hair and sharp green eyes. Clareon was friendly man, maybe too friendly. There was something almost forced about it. Like something dark lurked beneath the trusting smile he always seemed to wear, which could sometimes be scary. Sometimes Gabriel thought his teeth would sparkle, like in cartoons, when Clareon smiled. But he was also a very curious man, constantly fascinated by the memories of Gabriel. He would blabber on about how amazing it must have been living in that era and how much he would like to go back and relive the memories of one of _his_ ancestors. A weird guy.

Clareon was marking things down on a clip board, humming a tuneless song. He seemed so into his writings that Gabriel nearly jumped off the Animus when the man looked up at his with a ear to ear smile.

"Feeling well, Mr. Artus?" He asked, the edge of his mouth twitching.

"Er, yeah." Gabriel said. "and stop calling me 'Mr. Artus,' it makes me feel old."

"Of course, of course." Clareon said, waving a hand as if to shoo the words away. "You are a very fortunate man, Gabriel, to be able to-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the speech, save it Clareon." Gabriel said, annoyed.

The doctor stared at him a while longer with his twitchy smile, as if debating whether to talk back or not. But instead he nodded, still smiling and turned away.

"Of course, my apologies, Gabriel."

Walking away, humming the tune of some hymn, Clareon disappeared into one of the back rooms. Gabriel turned to Masashi, who was still typing away on the computer.

"You get repeated speeches thrown at you?" He asked.

Masashi laughed. "Very often. He likes reminded me of the glorious world him and the others are going to create with their gathered knowledge of history. What a huge contribution to realm of discovery they have in their grasp . Like a broken record."

"Wow, that's probably the most you ever said, man." Gabriel said with a teasing smile. "How come you don't talk a whole lot?"

Masashi smiled and pointed a pencil eraser in the direction in which Clareon had disappeared.

"When you work with someone like _that_, you don't usually get a whole lot of talking in."

Gabriel laughed at that because, in the short time he had been here, he knew the truth of it.

When he had first been kidnapped, he didn't take to well to being a such a strange place. After a while, though, he got used to it. Clareon and Masashi treated him well. Not like a caged animal but like a pet. Course that wasn't the best way to treat a human being but it beat the former. Actually, this is some of the best treatment he had ever received. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed a new pair of clothes and was stuck in the steadily-growing-crusty ones. At least they fed him. He could be thankful for that.

"Hey, Masashi?"

The Japanese boy looked up.

"You guys are gonna let me out alive, right? Once this is all over?"

Masashi stopped to think.

"We probably will. I mean, Clareon-san really has no need to keep you and he doesn't seem like he'll kill you. We might just have to wipe your memory of the events that happened here."

Gabriel starred at Masashi, trying to find a hint of BS in his face. But his face was honest and open. Gabriel had trained himself to be a profiler and he was able to read people like speed-limit signs. He knew when some one was lying and Masashi wasn't.

_Author Notes: So, Sistine starts to experience memories outside the Animus and we are introduced to Gabriel. I tried to make it as clear as glass that Haydar and Lisha do not have a love interest in one another and point out the fact that Lisha has some European in her (make a mental note of that, it's needed information). As for Saqr (I have NO idea how to pronounce his name) he shall make his appearance in time. _

_It wasn't until after I crated Clareon that I realized he is rather similar to Stockton from Kaxen's AC fic XD. I just wanted to create a character who was the opposite of Vidic. _


	7. Punishment

Chapter 7

Punishment

"_My object all sublime I shall achieve in time-To let the punishment fit the crime"_

_-William S. Gilbert_

"Hey, Doc?" I asked, following Vidic from my chambers out to the Animus. I had woken up yet again to him standing over me, like the way an egotistical person hovers over their reflection. "I have a request."

Vidic waved his hand lazily, not even turning to me. "Yes, yes, out with it."

"Can I get some new clothes or somethin'?"

"What you are wearing is just fine, you're not going to be here for very long." The tone of his voice told me he was tired, maybe a bit frustrated but my question wasn't bothering him…yet.

"C'mon, Doc!!" I insisted, put the very edge of a whine in my voice. "I'm still in my pajamas and I'm not even wearing a bra!!!"

Lucy stopped typing immediately and I swore I almost heard Vidic choke on his morning cup of Joe. They both turned to look at me like I was a twelve year old and I put on the pouting glare.

"Do you know how uncomfortable this is?!" I said before pointing a finger at my chest. "Besides, yabbos like these need to be handled with care! They're pretty damn big!"

By the look on Vidic's face I could tell I had succeeded in making my captor uncomfortable. Lucy was giving me a stare that ranged between amusement and surprise. She was a girl, she should be able to understand. As they stared at me and I stared back, an awkward silence filled the white room. A gay child was born, I thought to myself. No need to say a joke that my only companions probably wouldn't understand.

"Can't Lucy get me some clothes?" I asked, no longer wishing to piss anyone off. Something very rare for me.

Lucy looked to Vidic, a small glitter of…was it hope?…in her eyes. Doc looked from me to his assistant. He shook his head before taking another sip of his coffee.

"Let's get started for the day."

With a jerk of his finger, Vidic silently commanded me to the Animus. I let out a sigh, taking the change in subject as a no. I hesitated, looking at the two of them as I steadily approached the unbelievable-table-of-awesome (with not so awesome after affects). The dream I had last night was still bothering me, like watching a memory that wasn't mine to watch. Hell! That's what I was doing in the Animus. Invading the mind of my ancestor who probably would take to kindly to the intrusion. I lay down on the cold metal surface and watched the screen slide up over my face. Then there was a bright light, numbers and letters whizzed by and the weightlessness conscious leaving body filled my senses. A phenomenon I continued to find fascinating.

~*~*~*~*~*~

With little interest, I observed the sun as it rose up from behind the sharp mountain peeks from my sleeping quarters. The glowing orb slowly lifted higher but it did so hesitantly, as if debating whether or not to drop back down into its dark slumber. Yet, it continued it ascent, realizing its duty and place in the world. If _I _was not careful, I could very well lose mine. A strangely frightening thought.

I pushed myself up from the elegant carpets and elaborate pillows that made up my bed, sitting up with my legs folded to the side. One of my strange habits happened to be gathering pillows. Sometimes I would buy them, other times I would strip them from the victims who happened to have one or a few lying around when their fate rested on my blade, then there were times when I just stole one for no other reason than I simply wanted it. My collection counted up to nearly twenty as of now and I surrounded myself with them as I rested.

Yawning, I stretched my arms before standing. Seeing no reason not to do so, I threw a simple tunic on over my sleep wear. I had no missions nor assignments that I was aware of, thus I had no reason to waste away my morning dressing myself in the many layers that made up the Assassin's garb. Still, I tucked my short blade and throwing knives into my sash and even slid on the gauntlet for my hidden dagger. It could've been out of habit but then again, you never know when something unexpected might come up. After loosely tying my hair back, I headed down to the pantry to find myself some breakfast.

About an hour later I found myself seated on the stone railing near the entrance of Alamut, a bowl of lentil soup in my lap, bread in my right hand and a cup of warm tea placed at my side. Watching the novices not to far below me, the teacher harshly training them as he had once trained me, I began to enjoy my lack of a mission.

At some point one of the trainees managed to knock away his opponent's weapon before giving him a rather harsh blow to the arm. The victim pulled away, gripping at the pain as well as biting down on his lip while his attacker beamed, the smile on his face bright and proud. The instructor approached the pair both praising the young child and scolding him for his impatience. Hardly shaken by the strict teacher's presence, the boy nodded and turned back to his opponent to apologize. The other child simply shrugged. Smiling the novice turned to me and waved enthusiastically, which earned him a sharp bark from the instructor. None the less, I waved back.

Footsteps approached from behind and I glanced over my shoulder. Haydar stood not to far behind me, watching the skillful young trainee.

"He is talented." He said.

"Yes, just like his father." I sighed.

"Shahin, you see him as a younger brother, don't you?"

I smiled. "I guess you could say that. I take care of him to the best of my ability, which proves to be a difficult task while being a Assassin."

There was a pause of silence as the two of us watched the many children train, every one of them hoping to be like us someday. I wondered if they knew what they were getting themselves into when they began their training. Eagles, and many other birds, often push their young from the nest in order to teach them how to fly. We were not pampered during out growth, no one held our hands, telling us it was okay to make a mistake every now and again. No. A mistake could lead to death, and their were no second chances. We were pushed from the nest, learning how to survive in the world on the way down.

"Who was his father, Lisha?"

I turned back to Haydar, slightly startled by his question.

"Pardon?"

"Shahin. You mentioned his father."

I stopped to ponder the question. I glanced down at the child.

"He's dead." I answered. "Killed during a mission."

Haydar seemed to think through my words.

"Were you two close?"

"Like," I searched for the correct word. ", like very good friends."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be." I shrugged. "He practically caused his own demise."

There was another moment of silence. Haydar was struggling with how he should respond and before he could, I turned around, holding up my empty dishes and flashing him a smile.

"Could you take care of these for me?" I asked. "I would greatly appreciate it."

He gave a dazed nod and relieved me. Watching him walk away, the smile melted off my face. I could have told him but I couldn't bring myself to admit it out loud. That I had loved Shahin's father and the recollection of his death was painful. An event I was still struggling with. Yes, his death had partially occurred because of himself but it was also the fault of a certain Son-of-None.

"Lisha?"

I turned my head to the side to see an Assassin of a lower rank then myself approach. He bowed slightly, twisting his hands nervously. I did not understand why.

"Yes?"

He fiddled nervously a while longer, which seemed oddly amusing for a grown man to do.

"The Master wishes to see you." He said finally.

I stood up. "Why for?"

The Assassin backed away a little. "I am not sure, he requested that I inform you of his summon."

A bit disappointed that my time off was so short and worried that perhaps my punishment was the real cause of the summon, I strut past the brother, giving him a nod of thanks. The Assassin slunk off, quiet as a mouse.

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

I bowed my head submissively, doing my best to make up for yesterday's rude outburst. While this was a familiar gesture and almost a habit when it came to being in his presence, there was something different about the atmosphere. Standing before him, I felt as though all eyes had shifted to me and the air became stifling. I could hear the slightest movement, which told me I was alert. Why, I did not know, but I realized I was very nervous. I had stood before a dozen men, taken them on practically by myself and had left their bodies in the street, but standing before Al Mualim, knowing I had raised my voice harshly towards him, was something entirely different.

"Lisha."

"Yes, Master?" I responded, keeping my voice as level as possible.

"I have an assignment for you."

I felt as though much weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"That will also act as your punishment." He added calmly.

The weight returned, only it seemed much heavier.

Al Mualim turned to me.

"Lisha, I want you to-"

There was the sound of hurried, heavy, footsteps. They echoed across the chamber and made their way towards us. I turned slowly to see Haydar approach, stopping only to catch his breath. Barley a glimmer of sweat on his brow, to which his wild dark brown hair clung too, he bowed to Al Mualim.

"Forgive me, Master, I heard that Lisha had been called forward and rushed here a quickly as possible." He said, rather quickly.

Al Mualim raised an eyebrow as he looked over his subordinate. Haydar panted and flashed me a smile, which I returned. I felt much better with him present.

"You will not accompany Lisha, Haydar." Al Mualim stated.

Haydar's smile vanished and was replaced with a look of shock. I do not know what went through his mind but it appeared as though he did not either understand or believe what he had been told.

"I-I'm sorry, Master?" He said, his voice a slightly higher pitch than usual.

"Lisha will be performing this assignment on her own." He explained, turning his attention back to me. "Besides, it's an assignment only she can complete."

My attention shifted back to Al Mualim. What kind of assignment could possibly be something only I could complete? Strange as it seemed, his words made me feel almost proud. I lifted my chin.

"What information can you give me, Master?"

He lightly shook a finger at me. "You see, Lisha, that is where you assume. I will give you no information. If I did so, this wouldn't be a very worthy punishment. No, the information you must find on your own."

I sighed and looked from Haydar to Al Mualim.

"Could you at least tell me where I need begin?"

The Master closed his eyes as, if debating whether or not to reveal my next target's whereabouts. I looked to Haydar, but he seemed deeply lost in his thoughts.

"Yaffa." Al Mualim said at last, opening his eyes slowly. "Efraim Al-Fulan, your next target, resides in Yaffa. The city may not be very important to either side involved in the Crusades, which makes it an ideal place for a man like him to hide away."

I nodded slowly, memorizing the name a city, storing it away into my memory.

"I will prepare myself and leave at once, Master." I said, bowing my head.

Turning to leave, I noticed Haydar attempt to follow after me.

"Wait, Haydar." Al Mualim called.

My partner turned.

"You stay, I have another mission for you."

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

Gently I tugged on the reigns of my horse, letting her know I wanted her to slow her pace. The light grey steed shook her mane, whinnied softly, but continued on at a steady pace none the less.

Yaffa was a large city, filled with rich colors and much greenery. Being located on the sea, it contained a small port where shipments could be received. Though not as popular as Acre or Tyre, the trade kept the city alive. Sometime before the year 1170, Yaffa had been captured and became the County of Yaffa and Ascalon, one of the vassals of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. In 1187, Saladin recovered the city from the Turks and it has remained under his rule since. It seems almost as if Yaffa had been swept under the rug. Neither side seemed to care about it as of now.

After tying up the horse in front of the main gate, I approached the entrance, retaining a casual look but never dropping my guard. The guards hardly glanced up at me. Yaffa wasn't like Acre or Damascus, there were no major events or shadows sliding through the streets. No one extremely important had taken up residence in such a place, thus the guards let themselves believe that no threat would be crossing their boundaries. And yet I had walked through with out an ounce of superstition eye up my back as I walked on.

Despite the seemingly un-importance of the city, its streets were bustling. Many women dressed in white or black chadors shopped through the Souq. Poor citizens sat off to the side begging for food or money, jar-carriers made their way carefully through the street, children ran through the streets. A man called out to me as I passed, offering me a well-bred donkey. Keeping to the sides of the street, I did my best to stay out of the way. While this city seemed greatly at peace, guards and Saracens still patrolled the streets.

While observing my enemies, a women ran up to me, her clothes shabby and her hair ragged.

"Please spare a few coins!" She said, her voice desperate.

I shook my head and attempted to push past her. She refused to let up.

"No, you don't understand!" She cried out. "I have nothing!!"

I shook my head yet again. " I cannot help you."

I held up empty hands but she continued to pester me.

"Please, my children are starving."

I stared at the women with impatience. No matter how hard I tried to get past, she would hardly let me move, shoving her words into my face, hoping to bring out my pity. I did not pity her, though.

With a sigh, I pulled a few coins from my pouch and held them out to the women, not because I felt sorrow towards her but because she would hopefully leave me alone if I did. Her face lit up at the sight of the money and she gave me a crooked smile as she eagerly grabbed at the coins.

"May God bless you, child!" She said. "May God bless you a thousand times over."

To my relief the women ran off and I was no longer bothered by her. A little paranoid that another might come to find me if she spread word of my "kindness" I slunk off into the alleyways until I found a secluded area where I could climb to the roof. I snuck about, scanning the area for the familiar signs of the bureau. I spotted the open-top building not to long later and dropped down into the secluded building. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I made my way to the main room….

….only to find the Rafiq slumped down of the counter, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. For a moment my heart stopped, until the man let out a soft snore. Angered by the near scare he had given me I walked up and roughly tapped his shoulder. The Rafiq's head came up almost immediately, looking around frantically. When his eyes found me, a wide smile spread across his face and his shoulders relaxed.

"Lisha." He greeted. "What brings your radiance to my bureau?"

I lowered the hood from my face and gave the Rafiq a sharp look.

"Don't talk like that, Basim." I scolded gently. "You sound like Saqr when you do."

Sitting up, Basim's smile widened as he attempted to seem hurt by my words.

"Don't compare me to my brother, it's not a fair argument."

Basim was the older brother of the ever so famous Saqr. Tall but a bit lean, he did not harbor the same reputation of his brother, despite the fact that they were a mere two years apart. Where Saqr was attractive and skilled, Basim was plain and wise. While Saqr was good with words and manipulative, Basim was open, friendly and blunt. Some say Basim emerged from the womb with a smile on his face, hence his name. Of the two, I preferred the older sibling, which was something he used in arguments against his younger brother.

"Have you heard any rumors or words on a man named Efraim Al-Fulan?" I asked, getting straight to the point instead of beating around the bush.

Basim leaned back and closed his eyes, submerging himself in his memories and thoughts. He brow furrowed and I waited patiently. His eyes snapped open after a good few minutes. Basim crouched down and disappeared behind the counter as he began to search through whatever he kept down there.

"Yes, yes." His voice said. "Al Mualim alerted me that you would be coming and when he told me who you were hunting I remembered some notes I had taken on the man when I was roaming the city for any news of wrongdoing. That's about the time I fell asleep."

I rolled my eyes and leaned over the counter.

"So, what did you learn? If there as been talk about him, then others must know of his work."

Basim reappeared and laid out several sheets of crumpled paper. He pointed an finger at a few sentences here an there.

"From what I learned he is performing some sort of dealings, I'm not sure what, but several families have been left unhappy because of him."

I looked over the notes. The information was incomplete and practically useless, but it provided a place to start.

"I have an informant lurking around the city somewhere." Basim said, taking his eyes from the papers. "He could probably give you more information than myself, I assigned him to look into the matters not to long ago."

"Is there anything else you would have me do?" I asked.

"Well, If I were in your place," He said, looking back through his notes. "I would linger around some of the families that have been recently affected by what ever Efraim is dealing."

I nodded and turned, pulling the white hood back over my face and wrapping a black chador around myself. Sneaking around wasn't to difficult for male Assassins, but I was not of the same gender. Women scholars didn't exist and even though I did my best to conceal my gender, it was still possible someone could notice, which would arouse suspicion.

"Lisha, I heard about your failure," Basim said quietly. "and I am very sorry."

I stopped to listen to the sincerity in his voice, the understanding in his words and for a moment I was glad he had become a Rafiq. For someone like me, failure is unacceptable. My fingers clenched into a fist subconsciously.

"I pray for you success." He added.

"No." I said sternly. "Save your prayers, Basim."

I paused before glancing back over my shoulder to look at the wondering face of the Rafiq.

"I _will not _fail this time." I stated with a smile.

Basim gave me a smile that had sprouted from both pride and encouragement.

The alleyways wind through the city literally like a maze. Just when you think your walking the final stretch, you turn a corner to find a fork in the road. While the main street was as loud and lively as a festival, the alleys were quiet. You could venture off into one of them and the noise of the world would drown away. Almost as if you had submerged yourself in the calm waters of the sea while a war raged just above you. Life was like that. Everything could be complicated, confusing, filled with noise, and soon you'll find yourself lost in the world. But one turn and you find yourself in a place so quiet, you're sure you have gone deaf. A place so clear that you begin to wonder how you had lost yourself in the first place when now you were the only person in sight. And yet the thought that the outside world lurked just behind you brought you back to the realization that someday you would have to return; someday you would have to emerge from the water's motherly embrace to help those who find themselves lost and confused.

I found the informant in such a place. Seated behind the buildings and gambling with a group of scruffy looking men. I approached the group, to which that all looked up. Upon recognizing me, the informant took the money he had earned and shooed the men away with harsh, yet some how friendly, words. Once the two of us were left and he had pocket the money, the informant turned his full attention to me.

"The female Assassin Lisha, I have heard much of you." He said. "A pleasure. What can I do for you, my friend?"

"Efraim Al-Fulan, what do you know of him?"

The man leaned back, his eyes crinkling in the corners above the cloth that obscured most of his dark face.

"Ah, so you are the reason the Rafiq has requested I keep a close eye on the man,."

"Perhaps."

"Well, I have learned much on Efraim, my friend." He said. "He is rich but not someone you could label as important. He has set up a hammam towards one of the higher point in the city, a building that over looks the sea. There is a second floor in the hammam, though. Some people believe that this is where he lives, others think is serves as a temple. But I know the truth," He said, leaning close to me. "From what I have gathered, it is a place where he is treated by prostitutes. Pampered by them. Some how the families of the city are being affected by this and whatever sort of shipments Efraim is constructing, he will not use the Yaffa port for transportation. Instead he sends them else where. Why he does this, I do not know."

Hearing the sounds footsteps approaching, I concluded that I could not linger to long enough to get all the information I could obtain.

"Is that all you can tell me? Who are the families that suffer?" I asked.

"There are a few homes towards the center of town, I would listen in on them."

I gave him a quick nod.

"Safety and peace, brother." I said, before turning and making my way back to the main street.

"Upon you as well." He responded.

The street almost seemed noisier than before and the amount of people increased. Again, staying close to the edge, I weaved through the people, gently pushing some to the side. The center of town was not to far and I made it there without alerting or agitating a single person. Acting as though I was inspecting some of the surrounding booths, I tuned my ears into the conversations around me. Finally one rung a familiar note and I crept closer, pretending to admire the work of a rug maker.

"What do you mean she was just gone?" A man dressed in a faded brown tunic asked.

"I'm saying we couldn't find her, my daughter was not in her room that morning." His companion, a man dressed in blue, said.

"How does a girl disappear like that?"

"I'm not sure. It was so close to her wedding day as well." The man seemed disappointed.

"Do you think this has to do with Efraim?"

"I'm not sure."

Passing by the two men, I crept towards a pottery stand. The voice of two young girls were the next to catch my attention.

"I swear, I saw her entering the hammam, men who looked like guards were escorting her."

"What were you doing up so late, Delilah?"

"None of your business! This is Sara we're talking about! They were taking her to be a slave for that man, Efraim, I tell you."

"You don't really believe those rumors about a whorehouse do you?"

"Of course I do! We could be next. Nobody could want to go there of their free will. We should try to get Sara back, before her wedding night!"

"And what could we do? Two girls not even married. Besides, no one sees Efraim. He is heavily guarded my father says. It's only unless the man has in interest in you that you are allowed in."

Interesting, I thought to myself. Young girls were getting kidnapped and taken to this "brothel." This also must have something to do with the shipments he is sending. Feeling I should report back to the bureau, I slipped away and melted into the crowd. Everything went smoothly, until I bumped against a large man who was having a rather bad day. In mid apology, the man pushed my to the side and I collided with a women carrying a jar, who fell back into her friend. Falling down to the ground, I cringed as the pots feel to the ground and shattered. Almost immediately the guards were there to investigate. They quickly concluded that I was to cause of the problem. I kneeled on the ground, pressing my forehead to the ground, mumbling pathetic words of apology.

"This women was causing the trouble." One guard called out to his companion.

"Well, you were talking about wanting to test your new blade," He called back. "Cut off her hand and be done with it."

The guard mumbled something and reached down for me. With snake-like agility, I grabbed his hand, unsheathed my sword and ran it through his gut. Blood spurted out from his mouth an onto my black chador. The first scream quickly followed. Moments later I was surrounded my the Saracen guards, blades drawn.

"You she-devil!!!!" One man cried.

Seconds later my blade found his throat. While, my blade was still sliding through, another man attacked from the side. I quickly drew my dagger and blocked the attack, only to kick a third guard in the face. Ripping my sword free, I turned and sliced through the chest of the second attacker and stabbed another in the heart with the dagger as he attempted to attack my blind spot. I finished off the last two my shoving one into the other and running my blade through them both.

Hearing the back up quickly approaching, I pushed through the crowd with a ferocity you would not expect from a women and threw myself into the nearest alley, discarding the bloodied chador. The first ring of the bell sounded. Taking a hold of one brick after another, I scaled the wall of the nearest building until I could pull myself up onto the roof. With out breaking a pace, I launched myself from building to building, post to post until the familiar sight of an open roof became visible. I dropped down into the safety of the bureau.

"Ran into some problems did we?" Came Basim's voice.

"Trouble ran into me, actually." I said with a sigh as I approached him.

Basim flashed a smile and leaned on the counter.

"What news do you bring."

"The hammam Efraim had built was given a secret second floor, though most of the cities people are aware of it. The second floor serves as a place were he is entertained my women, most likely prostitutes, and it is possible he lives there as well." I explained. "According to some of families towards the center of town, their daughters are disappearing and one girl claimed to have seen guards escorting one, named Sara, into the hammam."

"Oh, very good." Basim said, he seemed to consider something before mumbling. "It makes sense."

"What does?"

"Well, during your absence, I took the liberty of conducting some research of my own. Apparently Efraim is visited by entertainers constantly. Tonight a group of Raqs Sharqi dancers will be brought before him."

I remembered what the two girls had said in the cities center. "Only those that have Efraim's favor are allowed onto the second floor."

Basim nodded. "Fortunately for us, though, the group of dancers were attacked by bandits on the journey here. The main dancers suffered an injury and the others refuse to dance without her."

I stopped to think through the information, the first words he had said finally registered in my mind. "Fortunately for us….?"

Then it hit me. Suddenly it made since why this mission served as a punishment. Why only I could accomplish this mission. This realization left me feeling as though Al Mualim had sent me farther than death and a twisting, nauseating, feeling curled in my gut. I kept myself standing by sheer will.

"I was able to get a dancer costume for you by claiming I knew someone who could take their place." Basim said, before looking up at me. The look he gave me was as if he was seeing me for the first time. "Get some rest, Lisha. There are still several moments before nightfall. Rest your mind, I can see your uneasiness."

I nodded slowly and turned away, my head feeling as heavy as stones and my feet like nothing. Lying down slowly, I began to go through the steps of my mission. How could I make this a success? I also found myself cursing God for making me female. One of the pillows not to far in front of my face caught my attention. I liked it.

_Author Notes: HOLY CRAP! This chapter is loooong!!!!_

_I don't know where the Assassins eat, and I almost considered a mess-hall. But when I stopped to imagine it, all I could see was the scene on Kamino where all the clones are eating in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones XD. So I just said there was a pantry. _

_So you got to meet Shahin and learn a bit about his father and possibly what happened four years ago. This chap was kind of dull, a bit of fighting but mostly gathering info and such. Raqs Sharqi dancers are belly dancers, btw, and a hammam is basically like a bathhouse. _


	8. Dance with Death

Chapter 8

Dance with Death

"Pain and pleasure, like light and darkness, succeed each other."

-Laurence Sterne

Being born female had never seemed to be such a burden before. I had always considered myself lucky to be one of the few of my gender trained to be an Assassin. Glad that Al Mualim agreed to my request to be trained as one of them less than a month after I was found, passed out in front of Alamut. I never wanted people to treat me any different, I didn't want to take it easy. I even took it as far as telling my brothers that I did not want to be looked at as a female during training nor Assassin business. I trained twice as hard as my fellows.

I didn't know much about being a women outside of what I had studied of others and those in the garden. Their nature seemed to alien to me. The way they walked, the way they were repulsed at the thought of getting their hands dirty. The way the women in the garden teased the men only to refuse them. I had seen the tender love between a mother and her child, between a women and her lover but even still their behavior made as much sense as a dog's. Why did they insist on being so pretty? Why did they dedicate themselves to work? Why did they refuse to stand up when a man pushed them around? Was there such a big difference between the two genders outside of my understanding?

But I guess not understanding the nature of the average women couldn't get me out of my current situation. The sun had set less than an hour ago and the stars were quickly gathering in the sky, followed slowly by the moon. The hammam before my was not much wider than most but it was noticeably taller. It was a no wonder that the people quickly suspected a second level. It was also elaborately decorated. Curls twisted up it's pillars while colorful patterns stretched out across its surface in stripes. It was beautifully designed but, that made it all the more terrible.

A sickening feeling crawled about in my stomach and I kept from retching to the best of my ability. Even though I wore a thick chador over my body, I had never felt so naked in public before. The clothing I wore underneath were skimpy and thin compared to my many layered Assassins garb. The top was nearly non-existent and the bottom half of the dancer costume felt much to light. Basim had given me a long, and thick, sash as well to help cover up my hidden blade. The thought had me quickly reminded that I would be dancing for a man in this clothing, a dance I had only a few hours to learn. But I quickly adapted, I had too. Again, I had to keep myself from loosing my last meal.

Steadily, I approached the man guarding the hammam entrance. He stiffened at my approach and put a hand lightly on the sword at his side. I slowed my pace and continued forward cautiously.

"You!" He called out harshly. "State your purpose!"

I paused momentarily. "This is indeed the residence of Efraim Al-Fulan, is it not? He did summon a group of Raqs Sharqi dancers, correct?"

The man stared at me suspiciously.

"Well, were is your group? You appear alone."

"We were attacked by a group of bandits on our journey. I am the only one able enough and willing to continue on, the rest are depending on me to collect the fee."

The man continued to stare.

"Send a messenger if it will dispel your suspicion." I added.

He turned and shouted back to one of his companions. An almost identical looking guard approached and gestured for me to follow him. With a nod of thanks to the entrance keeper, I followed my escort. While I imagined appearing normal and calm on the outside, my insides were writhing and twisting. I screamed out for anything other than this in my mind. But I kept my face stone cold and my outward appearance as calm as possible.

Passing thought a well hidden door, we ascended the stairs that lead to the second floor. The beauty of the details never diminished but the stair way which we climbed was dark. Suddenly, a strange calm seemed to wash over me. I thought about what I was doing for my brothers, for the holy land. I was given a mission that could only be completed by a women and had I not existed, riskier measures would have to be taken, dangers that lower the chances of survival. I let out a quiet sigh that I hoped the guard was unable to hear.

"I have heard rumors about Efraim, some good and some bad." I told my escort. "It's nothing I should worry about, correct?"

I put a teasing note in my last comment, hoping it would appear as though I was simply trying to make conversation. The guard gave me a glance, with a smile, a sign that told me my deception had worked. I also realized how young he was. Maybe only a couple of years older than myself.

"The Master is a good man, though the city doesn't always think so." He said. "Any man that seeks for a women's company outside of a wife's is all ways thought of badly but he's does what he can. He built this hammam for the people, hoping it would please them."

"But I have heard people saying that the disappearances around the city were connected to your master."

The guard gave me a look I can only read as suspicion. I back away and pressed my hands to my chest, a gesture to help my next comment more convincing.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked. "I was just curious, some have warned me about your master."

The guard stared a while long before smiling again.

"Forgive me, things have been a little tense around here." He sighed. "But….between you and me, I don't know much about my master's personal business but it might have something to do with the Crusaders he's dealing with."

This guard was defiantly much to young for the job, giving away that much personal information….

"Are you new to the Saracens?" I asked. "I'm not sure I have heard a solider speak his master's personal business to a stranger before?"

The young guard flushed. "Y-yeah, I guess I'm still learning. Please, don't speak of this to Efraim."

I gave him a smile.

"It's a secret between you and me."

The guard had helped to seal his master's fate. The information he had given me helped to explain the missing girls around the city. I had the pieces, now all I need was the words that bound them. I would learn the truth when I spoke with Efraim.

A last we reached the door that lead to my target. I don't know how I knew it was behind this door but I could feel my character melding into someone else. The guard held out a hand.

"I'll take your chador." He said.

With slight hesitation I removed the one article of clothing that covered up my near nude body. As I handed him the thick fabric, I noticed him starring. I kept from flushing in embarrassment and I nearly lost the calm that had over come me moments earlier. I gave him one last smile before he opened the door and I stepped inside.

Efraim sat in the middle of the room, leaning back on a wall of pillows piled on top of a rug that's design was breathtaking. He was a middle aged man, maybe in his early thirties. His dark skin looked paler when compared to his short deep brown hair. He wore loose fitting dark red pants and a vest-like shirt. He sat up and smiled.

"I expected much more of you, and possibly older." He said.

I thought back to the women in the garden, how they treated the male Assassins and everyone around them. Full of themselves but humble. They were my best example in this situation.

"My group was attacked by bandits during our travels, our main dancer was injured and I volunteered to go and collect the fee since no other would." I said, humbly. "I am young and still new to the art but I shall perform my best, sir."

Efraim continued to study my appearance.

"Where did you get those scars?"

I had hardly remembered them before, and now that he pointed them out, they seemed obvious. I bowed my head.

"My father was not a kind man." I muttered, trying my best to sound pathetic. I had never even known my father and it felt like a strange thing to say.

"Forgive me," Said Efraim, the pity barley present in his eyes. "I don't mean to sound so suspicious but there have been rumors of a Hashashin prowling the city and some even say it's a woman. Such terrible creatures they are, caring only for their own well being and their master's words. Don't you agree?"

I kept my breath even and my temper cool, and nodded. "Yes, of course."

Efraim smiled and studied me a while longer before leaning back.

"Well, enough talk," He said. "Dance for us."

I looked over for the first time to see a handful of other men, all armed with instruments. My first guess was that they were the band Basim had told me about. They often played with the Raqs Sharqi dancers but they traveled separately. I had explained to Basim that the band did not know who I was and might become suspicious but he just shook his head and told me that the dancers often picked up new recruits so it wasn't unusual for them to play for a dancer they did not know.

They all looked to me, instruments poised and ready. I approached them and shared with them what song I wanted played. It was the only song I knew how to dance too, that Basim had taught me. Well, actually we visited the injured dancers and asked one to teach me. They were so clueless.

Steadily the song began and I took a deep breath and turned around gracefully. As I began to move in the unfamiliar way, I had this feeling I was much to stiff. I thought back to the way the Raqs Sharqi had danced. Thought about the way her body moved with the beat. What was different about the way she moved compared to me? Perhaps I had spent very little time with my temporary teacher but I could remember her dance in my sleep as I had studied it intently. What was it she and the music had in common.

I can't explain why, but I closed my eyes and felt for the music. As I adapted, I felt the rhythm ripple through out my limbs and they took on a life of their own. My arms curled through the air, the bracelets on my right wrist jingle together. I felt the shawl trail behind me, flowing through the air, as though it was part of me. My hips moved and synchronized with the beat, twisting and turning. The way my feet moved so smoothly was like walking through water, only not so dense.

There was no longer Efraim, no longer a mission. I wasn't an Assassin, my mother had never died before my eyes, there was only the music. I wasn't even sure how such a transformation was possible but it all seemed so natural. I was the rhythm, the music, the beat, and they were all me as well. It was as though my past was slipping away, taking my identity with it, filling me with a strange feeling of freedom. Shahin was no longer the child I have see as a relative and his father had never-

The music stopped as did I. As though the last thought had pulled my back to reality while reaching out and silencing the musicians. Everything returned and a heaviness returned to my conscious that I had never known existed. I was an Assassin. I had a mission. I was to kill Efraim.

I turned to my target. Efraim face held a smile of pure amusement. He put his hands together.

"Wonderful!" He said. "Very good for a someone so new to the art."

I lowered my head. "You speak much too kindly, sir."

Efraim waved his hand and the musicians shuffled out from the room. It settled in quickly that my target and I were alone. I had feared that I would have to find a way to get rid of the witnesses. This mission seemed to be going to smoothly. My enemies continuing to make it easier for me.

Efraim gestured for my to come and sit in front of him. I did so, thinking back to the women in the garden. Efraim sat forward peering into my face. I dropped my gaze, feigning submission.

"Are you sworn to your group?"

I looked up slightly. "I do not understand."

"By becoming a Raqs Sharqi dancer are you sworn to remain in your group."

"No sir."

"How would you like to be my personal dancer?"

I had to keep a smile from spreading across my face. "You would not want me to be your dancer, sir."

"Why, not?" Efraim asked. "Your young, attractive and talented in your element."

"Because," I began, I felt my mental conscious slip away, leaving only the mission to ponder. "I am not a dancer and dancing is not my element."

My shawl slipped from my left wrist, revealing the gauntlet. Efraim realized the truth moments after my blade slid out and attempted to move away much too late. Pushing him down with my right hand, I thrust the blade into his throat.

"_I had a feeling." Efraim chuckled as I cradled his head in one hand and held his waist with the other._

"_Then why did you not run?"_

_He smiled. "You and your dancing got the better of my judgment."_

"_Why are you kidnapping the women from the city?"_

_He laughed. "I did not kidnapping anyone."_

"_Save your lies!" I said harshly. "I know girls have been disappearing, especially around their weddings. You're selling them to Turks, aren't you?!"_

"_You Hashashin," He said, shaking his head. "always assuming you have the answers."_

"_Well then tell me of your schemes so that I might know."_

"_Would you like to be married to a man you had never met?"_

"_No."_

"_I thought not. Most young daughters do not wish to be pushed into a marriage, so they come to me. I ship them to Tyre where my friend, Fredrick Thomas, takes care of them. Sometimes I send them away to meet up with their lovers, other times they just want to escape."_

"_And are these attempts successful?"_

"_How should I know? Fredrick and I do not contact one another for fear of someone learning of my connection to a Crusader and he to a Saracen."_

_He glared at me._

"_Why don't you ask him yourself, so that you can assume yet again and hit a false mark."_

"_I hit no such mark." I told him. "My master asked me and so I obeyed."_

_Efraim shook his head. "Your talents are wasted."_

_With those words his breath left him and I lay him down, running a feather across his bleeding neck._

"_May your God be with you."_

I lay down Efraim's body gently against the plethora of pillows. His dead eyes stared at me and I resisted the urge to close them. Curling my hand around the bloodied feather and I wrapped it in the shawl once again. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath.

Then I screamed.

Moments later three guards came busting through the door, the young one among them. I turned a wide eyed, frightened face to them as their gaze fell upon the dead body of Efraim.

"He-he came in and then there was blood everywhere!!" I said, speaking as fast a possible. "Then….then…"

The young guard ran up to me, placing a hand lightly on my bare shoulder. His companions approached Efraim's body, checking his pulse.

"What happened?" The young guard asked me. "And speak slowly."

"The….there was a man in white who came through the window." I lied. "He just stabbed Master Efraim and jumped back out just moments ago."

The guard looked to him companions, who nodded and ran back out the way they had came, hands on the hilts of their swords.

Trembling, I threw myself into the young guards arms and pretended to cry.

"I was so scared!" I whined. "I thought he would kill me too!!! I'm so new to this….dancing and my first client…."

The guard stroked my hair awkwardly.

"It's….it's okay." He said. "You're safe, I'll get your chador and escort you back to your companions."

I nodded, already tired from putting up the pathetic act.

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

The full moon hung above, submerging the city of Yaffa in a dark blue light. Ever structure seemed to loom stories higher than before the night, as though they transformed with the lack of light. Buildings and alleys hid away in the ever growing shadows. Every now and again a cat became visible in the darkness. I put a hand on the young guards arm. He turned to me slightly and smiled.

"This will do." I said, softly. "We are staying in this inn."

The guard looked to the building that I had gestured to. He nodded and turned to me.

"I do not believe the Assassin will be after you, I wouldn't fear." He said. "But, just be safe."

I nodded.

"Thank you," I muttered. "you have been so kind, to me."

There was a moment of silence between the two of us. The stars scattered above were endless and impossible to number but they appeared yet again every night.

"Perhaps we'll meet again someday."

"I hope so." I said with a forced smile. In all honesty I hoped to never meet him again, for his sake.

The guard turned to leave and I reached out and took his shirt. Quickly I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek, the final seal on my disguise. The young man stared at me stunned for a moment before turning away quickly.

"May the Lord watch over you." He mumbled nervously.

"And you as well."

Then we headed out separate ways.

I waited until he was well out of sight before scaling the nearest buildings and making my way back to the bureau. The usually familiar routine became awkward in this clothing and I moved along all the quicker. Basim was waiting for me when I ducked inside the hidden building.

"The mission was a success?" He asked with a smile.

I pulled the feather from my scarf and placed it on the counter in front of my friend.

"Efraim Al-Fulan is dead."

Basim smiled. "Good, very good."

He bent over and began to record the death but my silence quickly alerted him. He looked up and studied my face.

"Lisha? Are you alright?"

I nodded and rubbed my face.

"Yes, I am just tired."

Basim smiled gently. "Get some rest, my friend. Tomorrow you shall return to the safety of Alamut."

I didn't argue with him. Instead I collapsed in the resting area, curling up amongst the pillows. I had known I was exhausted but as I relaxed, by entire body seemed to sigh, not from the fatigue but from stress. Sometimes I would take a simple hunt and kill mission over an infiltration. I was glad it was over. As my eyes closed and my breathing became even, relief that I was myself again fluttered through my thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As if her exhaustion was my own, I found myself almost refusing to use the little effort it took to sit up from the Animus. My head was pounding and my bones groaned as though I had been sleeping on a slab of metal…..oh, wait.

Lucy looked as though she had been through the ringer and Doc looked as stern as usual, only in a weary way. I could tell that they hadn't been arguing but there was something about them that seemed almost impatient. I thought about it and my only conclusion was that my "useless" memories were bringing out their darker natures. Vidic obviously wanted to get through to the point as fast as he could while Lucy just wanted him to be patient. They had been arguing, but not verbally and not with one another.

"I can see your exhausted, Ms. Rivers." Vidic said. "You were in the Animus much longer today so I would suggest you go get your rest."

I couldn't argue. I hopped off the Animus and Lucy walked me to my room.

"I kept you in there for too long," Lucy said apologetically. "If you suffer any strange side effects, you let me know."

I shook my head, which made it throb.

"I'm fine." I mumbled. "Thanks but I just need some sleep."

The door hissed shut behind me as I entered the living quarters and dropped to my bed. I buried my face in the pillow and pulled my sweatshirt tighter around my body. Sleep didn't come for a while. I was kept awake by some unseen, annoying, thought that kept rolling through my head. Eventually, though, all my tossing and turning slapped my head into realizing I was tired.

"_He's dead."_

_I looked up from the body to Fouad. His face was young, handsome, and kind, with soft features. His short dark brown hair hid beneath his white hood, but the tips of his bangs could be seen above his pale green eyes. A scar cut cleanly in a diagonal direction across his nose, giving his gentle features a touch of intimidation. _

_I smiled._

"_Well, I would be a bit concerned if he survived after that attack from Alta__ïr."_

_Fouad crossed his arms and turned._

"_Yes, that would be quite the feat." He said before the tone of teasing entered his voice. "But would you please share the hunt, brother? We have hardly had a victim for ourselves. Our skills will grow dull if you continue to hog the glory, especially Lisha, who is still fairly new to the rank of full fledged Assassin."_

_Altaïr stood feet away, leaning against one of the windows of the building we had infiltrated, keeping an eye out for any who might approach. He glanced back over his shoulder at us, his face submerged in shadows, and gave a soft snort._

"_If you want to take the kill, make sure you reach it before me."_

"_Oooh," I said mockingly. "Careful, brother, your arrogance has found its way to your tongue again."_

"_I am just making in clear where our skills stand."_

_I laughed. "My point proven. Keep in mind Fouad is your senior, Altaïr, and almost six years older than you."_

"_Oh, now, don't you pull me into you dispute." Our senior responded. _

"_Do not forget who started it, Fouad." Altaïr said, walking back to us. "And Lisha, _you_ shouldn't forget that you are only fifteen, barley a women."_

"_Yeah? Well, I'm still more of a man than you!"_

"_Care to prove that?"_

"_Alright, you two, settle down." Fouad said. "I want to get back home."_

_I brushed my hand over our victim's eyes, closing them. _

"_Eager to get back to your wife?" Altaïr asked._

"_Of course, my son is bound to be born any sun now." Fouad beamed as he mentioned his unborn child._

"_How do you know it's a boy?" I asked._

_He tapped his head. "I just do." _

"_Well, if it's born a girl," Altaïr said, a smile slowly spreading across his young face. "I get that horse you're so fond of."_

"_Deal. And if it's a boy you have to give me any money you earn or find for the next month." _

_I stood up and shook my head. "Men," I muttered. " You're always betting."_

"_Passes the time." Altaïr shrugged._

"_Now you're starting to sound like Saqr."_

"_At least I'm not trying to get you in my bed."_

_Fouad smiled at me quickly before turning away and heading back the way we had come. As I watched his back, a strange sadness filled me._

Author notes: Man, I haven't updated in a while. *stretches arms*

My chapters have been pretty long lately. So, Sistine has another memory outside of the Animus that take place _four years _before 1191. Lol, It's your first insight into what might have happened.

I'm not very good at describing dancing, so I just kind of wrote about how it would feel and stuff. I actually don't like this chapter a whole lot, except for the flash back.

Expect an update for Inazuma Ho soon…..I think.


	9. The Assassin's Daughter

Chapter 9

The Assassin's Daughter

"All things are perceived in the light of charity, and hence under the aspect of beauty: for beauty is simply Reality seen with the eyes of love." -Evelyn Underhill

One foot in front of the other, Haydar made his way to the outskirts of Masyaf. The sky was a strange shade of grey, thick with clouds, but the smell of rain lingered no where. There was also the gentle breeze that blew through the mountains and rustled the few vegetation that grew in home of the Assassins. It was strange weather out in the desert, especially since no moisture hung in the air. Even the animals seemed less active. Every now and again a bird could be seen soaring above, searching for a meal that could not be seen.

Haydar noticed all of this but didn't give it much attention. He was puzzled by his assignment. Al Mualim had asked him to escort a merchant to Jerusalem, and ensure that person made it to their destination safely. Though Haydar had asked why safe-guarding was considered the duty of an Assassin, his master refused to answer him directly. Beating around the bush with words like "the duty of an Assassin is peace" or "Not all is as it appears to be." As wise as they may have sounded, they avoided answering Haydar's questions. He held his tongue, though, understanding that he was to do as told for the Master was a man who knew what he was doing.

As he reached the bottom, he caught sight of the merchant. The man was tugging at the wheel of his cart, desperately trying to free it from the rocks, and the horse pulling at it's reigns frantically. Haydar approached him and the man turned a face towards him that was almost completely hidden by the cloth sloppily wrapped around his face. He seemed young, from what little Haydar could actually see. Placing the palm of him hand on the inside of the wheel, the Assassin jerked up, freeing the wheel and getting back on the main trail.

The merchant sighed and pulled away at his face wrappings. Haydar turned away to inspected the wheel, when his companion spoke.

"Thank you." Said a voice much to soft and high to belong to a man.

Haydar quickly turned back to watch as long, black, wavy hair spilled out from the wrappings to frame and heart shaped face the color of dark sand. Decorated with a perfectly angled nose and two honey colored eyes, the face smiled at him with a pair of full lips.

"Are you the man who was sent to escort me?"

Haydar struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. He found himself starring at the most beautiful women he had ever seen. It wasn't just her appearance but the way she smiled at him, that had the young Assassin enraptured. Her face was so open and kind that Haydar had to reminded himself that he had not passed on into paradise. Realizing how stupid he must have looked, though, he quickly concealed his shock and regained his composure.

"Yes, my name is Haydar."

"I am Safa, the merchant."

Safa pulled the scarf that had been wrapped around her face, onto her shoulders and began to make her way towards the front of her cart, muttering soothing words to her horse. Haydar followed after her.

"Are you familiar with Al Mualim?" He asked, wondering if the women was fully aware of what he was.

"Yes," She replied, climbing onto the back of the horse. "My father was an Assassin as well."

"Is that so?" Haydar asked, following as the cart pulled away. "Would I know him?"

Safa tossed back her long black hair.

"Possibly. But he died almost ten years ago."

"I'm sorry."

She looked down at him and flashed one of her smiles. "You shouldn't be. Even I was aware of the consequences he would face as an Assassin."

A silence Haydar found himself very uncomfortable with began to grow between the two of them. Safa greeted a handful of people as they made their decent down the mountain, showing off her genuine smile and her few words in a sing song voice. Haydar had never met such a women with such angelic features and a matching personality. Several times he had to turn away to keep from starring. They were at the bottom of the mountain an hour later before Safa spoke to him again.

"Haydar, would you like to sit on the ledge of the cart?" She asked. "Jerusalem is a many day journey and you will surely wear yourself out walking."

Haydar shook his head, the tangled mess of brown hair swinging from side to side.

"I believe I could manage." He responded with a reassuring smile.

Two hours later the Assassin was seated on the cart, a look of embarrassed defeat on his face.

Safa gave him a warm smile. "See? Much better isn't it?"

"Y-yeah." He muttered.

Haydar glanced back over his shoulder at the merchant's cart. What ever she was carrying was hidden beneath a faded green blanket. It wasn't his business, he was just escorting Safa to her destination, but his curiosity was piqued. He gave his companion a hesitant look.

"Safa?"

She gave Haydar an over the shoulder smile that nearly sent him stumbling back into the cart. "Yes?"

"Um…h-how is it a women gets to become a merchant?"

Safa gave him a look that displayed that she did not expect the question. Another smile followed soon after, only this one was tainted with a slight embarrassment as her eyes found the ground.

"Haydar," She began. "I'm not exactly what you would call a mer-"

The sound of approaching hooves and deep laughter, turned the heads of the pair. Coming up towards the two and their cart was a group of eight, maybe nine, men, all on horses. Their appearances were scraggy and unkempt, hair wild and busy, faces unshaven and clothing torn and worn. The man in the front, big and burly, with a ugly ring of stubble on the lower half on his face, let out a holler as him and his band sighted the cart.

Haydar clicked his tongue.

"Bandits." He spat. "Stop the cart."

Safa didn't even argue, allowing the Assassin to hop off to the ground. A annoyed look crossed his face as he folded his arms, waiting. The bandits surrounded the small cart and it's two escorts. The horses look just about as bad as the men. The fact that some of them wore a expensive piece of jewelry confirmed the groups profession. The man that had been leading guided his horse in front of his fellows, approaching Haydar.

"Who is in charge of this cart?" He asked, his voice sounded much softer than his features, but gruff none the less.

Haydar opened his mouth to take the claim but Safa spoke out first.

"I am." Her soft kind voice became firm and strong.

Haydar turned to see her face was just and determined and firm as her voice. He found himself surprised by the change.

A cruel smile crossed the leaders lips.

"A women?"

Laughter rippled through the group, a cruel kind of laughter.

"Seems like my lucky day." He said. "I get a beauty like you _and_ the goods in your cart."

Safa raised her chin as the man began to lead his horse towards her. Haydar firmly planted himself between his client and the bandit, a stubborn look carved into his face. The bandit gave him an annoyed look.

"Step aside, monk," He commanded harshly. "I have no business with you."

"Your threatening my client," the Assassin replied coolly. "Therefore it _is_ my business."

"Client?" The leader said, his voice skeptical. "Since when do merchants hire you Turk praying pansies?"

"I am no monk, bandit." Haydar said. "Much less a Turk, and even less a pansy."

Moments later a flash of sliver cut through the air and a small knife had lodged itself into the bandit leader's skull. The rest of the group stared, dumbfounded as their leader fell back and off his steed. It appeared as though their minds were too small to even comprehend the event. Finally, Haydar heard the sound on unsheathing metal behind him and turned to see one of the bandits raising up his arm to throw a dagger towards him. Before the man could move, much less blink, Haydar pulled the crossbow from his back, releasing the bolt while the weapon was still making it's descent. The metal arrow slid through the man's throat and between the eyes of the man behind him.

Seconds afterwards, another bandit jumped from him horse in Haydar's direction. The blade like tips of the crossbow's wings took him out with one blow to the heart.

There was a rustling on fabric and the Assassin turned to protect the cargo but froze in mid-action. Safa had launched herself from her seat on the horse and was coming down on the med who were desperately trying to get a hold of the goods. The look on Safa's face made her appear a different women, it's features twisted in fury. The dagger in her hand came down on one man's skull. She pulled in back out as quickly as she had attacked and rammed it into a nearby neck. Safa straightened and shot the three remaining men a glare that could kill. They flinched away as she reached a delicate hand under the tarp of the cart.

"If you want something," She said, her voice sweet despite her expression. "It is considered polite to ask, right?"

She tilted her head to the side as she gave them a bright smile and tossed and large bread into the hands of the nearest bandit. The three looked and each other, stunned and unable to make out the situation.

"Now I never want to see you faces again." Her sweet voice quickly melted when she noticed the men were still in the same spot. "Are you deaf?! Get you asses out of here before I send them to HELL!!!!"

The men reared their horses with out hesitation, heading them in the opposite direction, the remaining steeds following after them.

Haydar's shocked eyes could not tear themselves away from Safa's back. As she began to turn back, he could help but flinch away a little. But when she came to face him, she was wearing her brilliant smile, which would have been much more convincing had their not been flecks of blood across her perfect face.

"Shall we continue?" She asked, her voice back to it's angelic tone.

Humming to herself, she climbed back onto her horse, and Haydar back onto the cart. He wasn't sure how to express what he had just seen. In fact, the only thing he could ask was:

"Why did you give them bread?"

There was a pause.

With her back still turned to him she answered.

"Do you believe bandits steal for the joy? Or because they are naturally cruel?"

Haydar didn't answer.

"They were born into poor lives, they cannot help themselves, Haydar," She said quietly. "This is their way of life. How can they know any other life if theft was the way their parents survived, and their parents before them?"

She sighed and looked over her shoulder, giving him a mischievous smile.

"But I would have given them a feast had they only asked."

Haydar sighed and smiled.

"I see."

Safa gave a sharp cry, kicking the horse's sides and the miniature caravan continued forward.

"Say, Safa," Haydar said. "You never got to answer my question."

She laughed, a lovely sound like the flapping of dove wings and small bells.

"You'll just have to find out when we reach Jerusalem."

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

The star continued to unveil themselves in the sky, despite that the sun had set nearly two hours ago. Haydar looked over to Safa. She had laid herself out across a travel matt, used as a substitute for a bed. Her eyes were closed but it was obvious from her breathing pattern that the merchant was well awake. The young Assassin continued to stare at her features, perfectly carved by who ever had created her. He could smell her from where he lay, a mixture of a light perfume and bread. It was a lovely scent but there was that tinge of blood from the event ealier that day. Haydar was still wrapping his mind around the way this women had so easily defended herself and the sudden violent nature that had tore itself from her kind, beautiful demeanor. She had spoken so casually after the attack, like nothing had ever happened. Safa spoke of the weather and of the most beautiful birds, but seemed not in the least disturbed by the fact that she had murdered people. Haydar wondered if she had done so before.

It suddenly felt strange to find this so disturbing. He was an Assassin, a Hashashin, and he had seen death many times. And Safa wasn't the only women he knew who was unafraid to get her hands bloody. Also, Safa's father was an Assassin as well. So, why was it all so surprising that the daughter of a killer was also one as well?

"Safa…." Haydar began.

"My father was an Assassin, Haydar." She responded, her eyes still closed. "He made sure I knew how to defend myself. Besides, with a job such as mine, one must know how to protect the merchandise and themselves."

"You're a strange women."

"From your tone of voice, it sounds as though this isn't the first time you have spoken those words."

Safa looked to him, eyes now open, curiosity swimming through the honey color.

"My partner," Haydar began. "is a female Assassin."

"A rare thing."

"Extremely." He smiled. "I have a hard time understanding what goes through her mind. She often keeps to herself but is a good warrior none the less. She can be cold, and cruel, but there is kindness in her heart. I have seen it."

Safa paused.

"Do you love this women?"

Haydar nearly sat up.

"What?!" He said, stunned. "No! She's my partner and a good friend but I would never dream of her being something beyond that."

Safa stared at him, her eyes searching, reading. Haydar lay back down slowly.

"I see." she finally said with a smile.

She sighed and settled back down again. Haydar waited, expecting her to continue on.

"We must continue our travel tomorrow. Let us sleep." She said instead.

Haydar rolled onto his side, closing his eyes after one last glance at the stars. Sleep did not come easy for the Assassin. His mind was troubled by what Safa could have read with her understanding eyes.

_Author notes: I haven't updated recently. I've been feeling rather un-type-ish. But I'm slowly coming back. Maybe I'll being doing one chapter a day updates again soon. lol_


	10. Charity of a Killer

Chapter 10

Charity of a Killer

"And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves. for charity shall cover the multitude of sins."

-Bible

Within the walls of Jerusalem, after passing through the bustling and lively streets, the Assassin and the merchant pulled the cart into a alley way near by the market place. The cart was placed in such a way that it was mostly concealed and only the very edge of the vessel peeked out into the main walkway. Draping the scarf over her head, Safa stepped out to lean against the wall, clearly visible to the passerbys.

Following her, Haydar stepped out to better see and understand his surroundings. They had placed themselves in the less fortunate area of the city. People roamed in clothes that had been worn for many suns before. Drunk men stumbled about, muttering and occasionally running from self-imagined ghosts, screaming the whole way. Children lay curled in the streets, their mothers possibly being any of the women that ran around a begged the vendors for just a bite of their food. Occasionally a guard would appear to beat away the begging citizens.

It seemed strange to Haydar that a merchant would set themselves up in the needy area of a city, instead of the rich district where more money could be made. But Safa seemed content and comfortable among castaways. Haydar walked up to her, subconsciously keeping the distance of a foot away from his client.

"Why are we here Safa?"

No response came flittering back to him, in fact, she hadn't even flinched at his words.

"Safa-"

"Please." Said a voice to Haydar's left.

He turned quickly, pinky finger poised and ready to unlatch his hidden blade. Instead, a tattered women greeted his vision, her hair weeks unwashed and her clothes about as dirty, if not more, than her face. She held up her filthy hands, her fingers like that of a dead man, towards Haydar's face.

"Please, sir, just a coin or two." Her voice was strained and needy. "I haven't got any food."

Haydar's face twisted ever so slightly in disgust and he prepared to push the women away, planning even to do as the guards ealier had done. Instead bread and some fruits, cradled in a pair on hands, appeared to his side, stretching out to the poor women. The Assassin turned to see Safa, a smile on her face much kinder and gentler than all that had come before it. The women's face lit up at the sight of the food and Haydar saw for the first time that this elderly appearing women was most likely in her late twenties. She took the food almost cautiously, as if afraid it was just a trick and the image would dissolve in her hands.

"Tell others, tell your friends, that I am here and am willing to as much food to them as my supply will last."

The beggar smiled and took the food nodding.

"Yes, yes, that you so much. God bless you a thousand times over." She bumbled on, speaking her words quickly, as if she couldn't say enough.

After the women had disappeared around the corner, Haydar turned to his client. She smiled at him, her eyes grinned as well.

"The poor aren't this way because they chose to be and they can't do anything about it if everyone around them refuses to help them, nor can they be strong when nourishment is denied to them." Safa said with compassion. "You Assassins dedicate your lives to bringing peace upon the world and since I was never given the opportunity to become one of you, I decided to achieve the same goal through different means."

Haydar found himself stunned that such compassion could exist and thrive in a single person. Glancing back, he saw the cart full of food, each morsel perfect, healthy and well taken care of, as though they were children.

An hour passed before the lows of the city began to emerge from the darkness of Jerusalem. Elderly people appeared walking along side children skinner that starved dogs and the lame were carried by another person or more. A young girl was nearly all her teeth missing led a blind man toward the cart. Considering the man's condition, it was surprising that he had been able to live to such an old age. The old man said nothing as he received his ration but Haydar saw his gratitude as tears spilled from his milky eyes the moment he tasted of the bread in his hand.

Children, once weak and unstable, began to run around and play games with one another, full of laughter. Men and women wrapped their arms around Safa, as if a long last relative, caller her names like "saint" or "angel." Though the filth of the cities homeless was staining her, Safa smiled genuinely at each person and offered words of hope.

Once the crowd had died down a bit, Haydar approached his client.

"Where do you get you're food if you don't earn profit from it?"

She smiled mischievously. "The better-off don't need as much food as they think they do."

Haydar's eyes widened. "You steal it?!"

Safa's only answer was another smile before she turned back to feed more of the approaching people. Haydar sighed, but a smile found his way to his lips as he watched the extraordinary women before him.

"Child…"

Haydar turned to see a man in his mid thirties standing next to him. His clothes were torn and basically appeared the same as everyone else around him. But his eyes were brown and clear and he held a strong expression that told of the way he embraced his survival. He looked up to the sky and Haydar wasn't sure if it had been him whom the man had addressed.

"Women are one of God's greatest creations, each unique and different." He said. "Some are greedy and selfish, others are needy and some are just plain women. But every now and again God creates a jewel."

Haydar found himself lost among the man's ramblings, wondering if he even had a point.

Still looking at the sky, he raised a finger and pointed in Safa's direction.

"You don't come across a women like that everyday, and certainly not every century." He smiled. "Hold onto that women child, because if you let go, you'll never find her again nor another like her."

With that the man began to walk away.

"Hey!" Haydar called out.

The man just raised a hand before disappearing into the crowd.

Haydar looked over at Safa, and for a split second he wondered. For but a moment, starring at her gorgeous face, perfect lips, full hair and breath-taking smile, he wondered what she saw when she looked and him. And he thought maybe this was the women he wanted to spend the rest of him life with.

Haydar's thoughts were quickly put out of his mind when the peasants around him began to scream and harsh voices began to rise above the crowd. The people scattered, grabbing children, who probably weren't even their's, and dragging the blind and lame away from the scene. It took only seconds for Haydar to see the source of the commotion. Seven Templars were heading in their direction, brutally shoving people out of their way. The tall of at the front pointed to Safa, his voice gruff and angered.

"You again!" He snarled.

Instead of fear a look of annoyance came across Safa's face. The Templars approached her, tense but not yet ready to start a brawl.

"Sir Philip and his men." She said coldly. "What do you're upper class behinds doing down here?"

"We warned you woman!" Philip said, ignoring the question. "We warned you that you would be arrested if we caught you stirring up trouble down here again!"

"Trouble? I'm helping the less fortunate." She scoffed. "Shouldn't that be something you enforce? Oh, right, you aren't men of God are you?"

The Templars exchanged quick glances.

"What nonsense are you babbling woman?" Philip demanded.

"Don't act stupid, I have good ears and hear the words and rumors of the city."

Philip nodded to him men.

"You are now under arrest, merchant!"

Safa shook her head. "I don't really like those words or the idea of them."

Sword were drawn in seconds but Haydar was faster. Blade in hand, he stood between Safa and the Templars while Fredrick's sword had just barely raised.

"Stand aside, monk!" Philip commanded.

"No."

Metal cut through air and Haydar grabbed Safa around the waist before jumping to the side and away from harm. Philip glared at his prey with two burning green eyes as he grinded his teeth.

"Arrest them both!" He cried, pointing his men in Haydar's and Safa's direction.

Without flinching, Haydar pulled his cross bow from his back and fired a bolt between the eyes of one Templar and slit the neck of another with the bow's bladed prod. The remaining Templars shifted back a bit.

"Care to try that again?" Haydar asked.

Philip clenched his fists, looking from side to side, considering.

"Men!" He said finally. "Continue with the arrest and kill them if necessary!"

"Where are you going sir?" One asked.

"Reinforcements." He said quickly before turning to run.

"That coward." Haydar said harshly under his breath, replacing his crossbow.

The Assassin began his pursuit, but turned back to Safa. She smiled.

"I can handle it. You just take down that bastard!"

Haydar nodded and continued one.

It suddenly seemed as though the streets had become filled by everyone in the city. He could see the crowd was slowing Philip down, but unfortunately it was doing the same for Haydar. He used an group of boxes to his advantage and swung himself from beam to beam and onto the overhang of a merchant stand. He continued the routine until he the crowd below him began to grow smaller as the Souq fell farther behind. The chase returned to one on foot. Philip seemed to be slowing down, his legs wishing to give out beneath him, but the Haydar's body had a different reaction. Adrenaline began to propel his limbs, carrying him onward towards his Templar target. His breath came out in quick, short, gasps and a thin layer of sweat began to form on his brow, his hair clinging to the moisture like a parasite.

People jumped away from the path of the pursuer and the pursued, before submerging themselves in conversations of question and explanation. Their mutters did not reach Haydar's ears, and he believed they didn't reach Philip's either. He was too busy focusing on escape or reinforcements, and Haydar was too focused on the kill.

Philip stumbled. The Assassin wasted no time. Like a lion that carefully stalks his prey until the perfect opening is had, Haydar's speed increased and, like his namesake, he pounced. Philip screamed.

"_Your cowardice was not enough to save you." Haydar said, crouching down while holding up his target's body._

"_There is a difference between cowardice and strategy."_

"_Is that your excuse?"_

_Philip chuckled slightly. "It was obvious that if I ran, you would pursue. I already knew where a group of guards were stationed and, you being the more skilled, I figured it best to separate you and the women to lead you into an ambush." He sighed. "If only I had made it a little farther."_

_Philip leaned back, as if ready to pass on but Haydar shook him violently._

"_If you truly are a Templar, then Safa's actions should be of no threat to you." Haydar pressed, hoping that they weren't aware of her theft. "Unless, like she said, you are not truly men of God."_

"_That women-Safa, you said her name was?-her actions were not a threat nor did I look down upon them. She possesses a kind heart, the kind we need more of in this day and age."_

"_Then why would you order an arrest?"_

_The Templar leaned back and sighed deeply, closing his eyes into consideration._

"_Though I approve of her actions, I have orders to collect the food of the city and preserve it."_

"_Orders from who?"_

"_William de Montferrat."_

_Haydar paused to think about the information._

"_Why would a man, who's main station and control resides in Acre, care about the citizens of Jerusalem and their food supply?"_

"_So that when the New Age dawns, the food can be stored and rationed properly." Philip said, as though reciting words spoken to him. "No individual will have more food than another and all will be equal."_

_Haydar stared down at the man in disbelief. _

"_New Age? Rations? What in God's name are you speaking of?"_

_Philip smiled as the life began to leave his body._

"_Perhaps you shall learn in time…."_

_Light left his eyes and he went limp in Haydar's arm._

Haydar stood slowly, watching as the last of the surrounding people scattered off, screaming. Their cries would most likely alert the near by guards Philip had mentioned. He thought this none to soon for the sounds on metal amour sounded not to far off. Haydar pulled himself up on top of the nearest building and hopped from roof to roof until he could dive into the safety of the nearest roof garden.

The young Assassin sighed, leaning against the wooden frame of his hiding place. The sounds of hurried footsteps came and went, occasionally followed by a mumbled curse. Silence soon fell over the canopy of Jerusalem but Haydar remained hidden. Thought conjured by his recent conversation troubled the youth and danced through his mind almost mockingly.

What had the Templar meant by New Age?

Why was the rationing of food necessary?

Philip had an edge to his voice that told Haydar that the man wanted to help those around him. That he cared about the Holy Land. But who could trust the words of a dying man? Especially one that tried to confiscate the only food the less fortunate could get their hands on. Haydar continued to let these thought rattle through his mind.

Hours seemed to pass before the young Assassin suddenly remembered him client. Practically throwing himself from the garden, he rushed back to the place where he had left Safa. Nearing the location, all he saw were a group of People and guards huddled around the bodies of the dead Templars. Safa was no where at the scene.

To avoid detection, Haydar changed courses and headed for the city entrance. The guards eyed him suspiciously but did nothing as he walked past. To his relief, Safa was waiting outside, enjoying a snack on the back of her cart.

"I though I lost you." She said with a smile.

"I-I thought I lost _you._"Haydar said, only to feel stupid for not having come up with something better.

Still, Safa laughed and Haydar had to keep from closing his eyes to enjoy the sound to its fullest.

"We have had quite the adventure, no?" She said.

"Yes." Haydar said.

"You really are a man of few words, aren't you Haydar?" Safa said as she dropped from the cart to stand in front of him. She placed a hand on his cheek, causing the Assassin to turn red ever so slightly.

"But I like you anyway." She continued with a heart-warming smile.

Haydar could barley breathe, none the less say anything, while his heart hammered against his chest. The Assassin could barley understand the strange reactions his body was going through, all he knew was that Safa was the cause.

"Thank you." He managed to say.

Safa laughed again before turning away. She checked the cart's security and then the horse, stroking the beast gently.

"I guess this is where we part ways." She said with his back to him.

She mounted the horse before looking over her shoulder, a look if sadness in her eyes.

"Farewell, Haydar of the Hashashin. Peace and safety upon you."

There was a pause.

"You as well." He responded quietly.

Safa gave the horse an encouraging shout and it slowly trotted onward. Haydar watched her back as it slowly moved farther ahead, her long black hair swinging from side to side. Her smile flashed through his mind.

"Safa!" He called out at he ran forward a bit.

The merchant looked back over her shoulder, her face puzzled.

"I-" Haydar stuttered, and his face both embarrassed and strong. "I'm very glad I met you! You're the most extraordinary women I have ever met!"

Safa stared back at him, her eyes wide with surprise as the wind blew gently. A smile slowly formed on her face as she turned back and continued on, and possibly away from Haydar's life forever.

Though he couldn't be sure, Haydar thought he saw Safa flush. Then again, it could have only been the desert sun.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yes, yes."

Gabriel sat up slowly, stretching his back and arms. Clareon was babbling away on the phone, his stupid grin on his face.

"Well of course I'd love to keep him! He's such a fascinating subject! Did you know that the Hashashin-"

Clareon's smile vanished and the voice on the other end of the phone line, though Haydar couldn't make out what was being said, sounded very pissed off.

"Of course, sorry, you know how I ramble----no, no…-----well, I have another subject coming in, besides the-"

Clareon paused to stare at Gabriel momentarily.

"I have a meeting, I won't discuss it here-----no, he's not a problem at all, quite an enjoyable kid actually."

_Kid?!_

"----Oh! You have one too? What's he like?----A girl?! The same era?-----how fascinating! How I envy you, Warren!----yes, yes---when?" Clareon shrugged. "Tomorrow would be best----yes, thank you. You have no idea what a big favor you're doing for me----" He laughed. "Of course, I understand. May the father of understanding guide you, old friend."

Clareon beamed at Gabriel, who flinched back a bit.

"How are you feeling, Gabe?"

Gabriel cringed.

_I told him to call me Gabriel not "Gabe," what a nut job._

"I'm fine." He said instead. "So, what's the father of under-"

"Oh, nothing really!" Clareon answered quickly….a little too quickly. "Just a inside reference between to old chaps!"

"Really?" Gabriel mumbled, not in the least convinced.

After he was back on his feet and heading for his room, Clareon called his attention once again.

"Oh, and Gabe,"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Tomorrow, after your next session, you're going to be transferred."

"Wha? But I-"

Clareon was already gone before Gabriel could get a word out. Masashi smiled and gave him a quick shrug.

"Nothing I can do, sorry." He said, before turning his attention back to the computer screen.

Gabriel gave a frustrated sigh, before ruffling his own hair. He returned to his temporary room and threw himself on the bed. He was beginning to hate all thing shit. Boredom settled in, followed by exhaustion, which led to sleep. A deep heavy sleep.

_Author notes: Hm, haven't updated in a while, I guess I just haven't been feeling like working on any of my fictions lately XD Perhaps I'm to busy trying to get started on my original novel. Anyways…yeah, I don't know what else to bring up ;P_


	11. Ostentatious

Chapter 11

Ostentatious

_"It is one thing to boast, another to fight." _

_-Proverb_

I woke up to find that Vidic was notstanding over me, though I wasn't sure if that was something I should be happy about. None the less, he entered shortly after I sat up. His clothes were clean and his face was probably the happiest I had ever seen it. Actually, it was the only time I had ever seen the man happy! Vidic came to a stop not to far in front of me and gave me a satisfied look.

"Good morning, Ms. Rivers!" He said.

I waited for him to smash the coffee cup in his hands on my head and scream 'Just Kidding! Now get in the Animus!' It didn't happen, instead he handed the mug to me.

"I hope you don't mind French Roast."

I stared at him a while before taking the cup in my hands. I half expected him to pull it away before dumping in on my head and laughing 'stupid Assassin, now get in the Animus!' But the mug made it to my hands safely.

"You seem rather off this morning, Ms. Rivers?" He asked. "Are you ill?"

_Are you?!_

"You're in a good mood, Doc." I paused. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, it's just a lovely day outside and I received good news today."

"What news?"

"Well that would be telling."

Vidic turned on his heel and head back out into the main room. I followed, drinking down my coffee faster than I should have. It wasn't food but at least it was something I could put in my stomach. Lucy was in her usual spot and Vidic was watching over her shoulder.

"Morning, Sistine." She said.

"Hey, Lucy."

I stared at the scene. Vidic looked pleased with himself, Lucy seemed her normal self and the room was the same boring colors as usual. Though the atmosphere was much lighter than usual, the 'regular' days couldn't help but pass through my head. Waking up, getting in the Animus, relieving my ancestor's memories (and possibly endangering my mental health), and then going back to bed. How many days would I have to follow this routine? How many weeks? What about my friends back at Starbucks? Would I ever be able to see my aunt and uncle again? Would I ever find out what happened to my parents?

And then the dreams. I knew they weren't just figments of my imagination, they were Lisha's memories…memories I can't help but feel are none of business. Not to mention that recently they seem like they're beginning to conflict with my own emotions and causing me to feel and understand my ancestor's thoughts. That Fouad guy? There was obviously some connection between him and Lisha, not to mention that kid Shahin, the three were all tied in together. Then there was Altaïr, who defiantly played a huge part in whatever happened judging from Lisha's resentment towards him…

It was all too much! I couldn't live the rest of my life like this! Especially considering that there was hardly a chance I would get out of here alive.

I stared down at my coffee mug, ABSTERGO written across it's plain white surface. Leaning against the nearest pillar I rubbed my temples and groaned. Vidic noticed and began to approach me.

"If you're ill, Ms. Rivers, you need to tell me." He drew closer. "Chances are you're mental state won't hold up in the Animus if you're physical being isn't well."

Twenty steps away. Thirteen. Seven.

" Ms. Rivers-"

He was close enough. I reached out with trained speed, grabbed him by the collar, spun him around and wrapped my arm around his neck before kicking the back of his legs, forcing Vidic to his knees. While he was still in shock I smashed the coffee mug against the pillar, and held what was left to Vidic's neck.

Lucy started, but I pressed the sharp ceramic to his skin. She stopped, her expression shocked.

"I really really hate to do this." I said. "I also hate to ruin you're good day Doc."

Vidic glared up at me.

"But I am not sitting through this shit anymore! I have a life I want to keep and if Vidic wants to keep his you'll show me out of the building right now before I add some red to this boring-ass room!"

"You'll never succeed." Vidic said through clenched teeth. "Even if you escape, we'll hunt you down again."

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. "At least this goddamn time I'll be prepared. I've killed men before and yours shouldn't prove to be to difficult, and trust me when I say I can kill you and sleep peacefully tonight."

"Sistine, please." Lucy begged. "Your stressed out and aren't thinking straight, Just put the mug down."

I pressed the mug into Vidic's neck deeper, feeling it begin to cut into the skin.

"Sistine, just hand me the mug" She stretched out her hand.

I didn't budge.

"Please…"

"I'm going to count to five." I said calmly.

"Yeah, I'm going to count to three."

I turned to face the new voice. It was young and obviously female. There, standing in the room entrance, was a hooded figure. They wore a large white sweatshirt over a black zip-up top with a hood (the one she wore), baggy dark blue jeans and Etnies. In a one fingerless-gloved hand, the figure held a gun, a Browning 9x19mm Hi-Power to be exact, pointed straight at me. And if that wasn't bad enough, there was a Walther pistol P22 poking out from under her sweatshirt.

"I'll still kill him!" I threatened. "Don't think I won't!"

"Really?" She said. "Makes me wonder…what's faster your broken coffee mug or my pistol? Care to find out?"

"I'm faster than you think."

"Possibly, but even if you kill Vidic, how do you plan to take me down with just some broken ceramic?"

I was having one of those 'this can't possibly get worse' moments when another figure emerged from behind the hooded girl. He was tall, well-built, possibly in his mid-twenties and he was hoodless, wearing a trench coat over everyday clothes. His dark brown eyes glared at me, the same shade as his hair. But the thing that intimidated me the most was the shotgun in his hands, which he cocked without flinching.

"I'd like you to take you're chances of survival, Assassin," The man said. "and cut them in half."

I stared back at them, refusing to move. It was my freedom at stake here for God's sake!

"Let him go, Assassin." The girl said calmly. "You may be able to kill him and sleep peacefully, but I can do the same to you with a clean conscious."

I hesitated, searching desperately for a means to still get my way. I found none. Regretfully, I let the mug drop from my hand and released Vidic. He dropped to the ground coughing and gasping for air. Lucy let out a relieved sigh and slumped into the nearby chair. I held up my hands and gave an honest smile to Vidic.

"I really am sorry for ruining your good day, doc."

I only received a glare.

The hooded girl approached me. I glimpsed her face and was shocked by her appearance. Though her voice had sounded young I hadn't thought she would fit the description. She was younger than me, possibly seventeen. But the other thing about her appearance was the gnarly scar that nearly took over the upper left-half of her face.

"Lucy." The girl said, her gun still pointed at my face. "Clean up the mug."

Lucy did so quickly, disposing of my pathetic weapon. It wasn't until everything was cleaned up that the girl lowered her gun and returned it to its holster. That's when I noticed the red cross on the upper-arm of her sweatshirt. She gave me one final cold stare with her reddish-brown eyes before turning away to help Vidic.

"I brought the body-guard, Vidic." She reported, gesturing towards the taller man. "He should be able to make sure you don't experience this kind of trouble again."

"Good, good." Vidic said, leaning against the Animus. "What's your name?"

"Carter, sir." He responded.

"Well, I hope you're skills are fine-tuned because I didn't expect our subject to be this much trouble." He said, offering me another glare.

"It's nothing I can't handle, sir."

There was silence between the five of us.

"I have to be off," The girl said. "I have other matters to attend too."

She turned to me one last time.

"We're always watching you, Sistine." She said before heading out of the room, the door hissing shut behind.

The awkward silence followed, everyone starring at me while I focused on the floor. I didn't feel like making eye contact. I was utterly humiliated. Had I known that two other people would enter I wouldn't have taken Vidic hostage. Oh, right and they had some guns, one of them being a fricken shotgun! Chances were I wasn't getting anymore coffee or food for that matter and relationships would be tense. I had no one to blame but myself. I told that to myself but all I could think about was what my ancestor would have done. I'm not sure if it was just my imagination but I could hear her voice, nagging at me like my aunt when I almost compromised our identities.

_You can't just talk to strangers like that!_

_You're pathetic, you hold your life higher than your values._

_You don't know who that man was, don't give away your identity so easily!_

_They can't win if you're dead._

_If we are found, they win! _

_You understand nothing._

_Don't you understand?_

I felt the eyes of the other three boring into my being. I looked over slowly at them through a curtain of auburn hair. Lucy's face seemed either sympathetic or afraid, probably a bit of both. Vidic still stared at me like he wanted to toss me out of the nearest window and Carter just stared with a blank expression.

Normally I would have argued. Brought up a sarcastic remark, tired to defend my honor. But I felt as though I was so mentally drained that any attempt to do so wouldn't help my situation. I lowered my gaze.

"Get in the Animus." Vidic said in a low, but vicious, voice.

I had no qualms. In fact I wanted to be in the Animus, at least it meant I could be someone else. Someone who wasn't trapped in walls, someone who wasn't so afraid, someone who was free.

_Free? _

I brushed the voice from my mind and lied down on the cold metal. No faces appeared above me as the screen slid over head or as I slid in my ancestor's body.

I don't think I had ever been happier to be her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey."

The voice had not really registered in my mind. I replied to it with a groan.

"Hey." The voice repeated.

It was followed by and forward and backward sensation through my body.

"Hmmmm?" I mumbled.

"Lisha, wake up."

I realized the sensation was someone shaking me gently. My eyes snapped open and I sat up.

"Wha-"

Tall walls of natural stone surrounded me, placed on top of a grassy surface that rippled with hills every here and again. Thin trees were scattered around, casting shadows in the afternoon light.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes using the back of my hand, yawning as I did so.

"What are you doing out here?" A familiar voice said.

"Malik?" I said lazily. "What are you…..I was sleeping."

He gave me a skeptical look, his arms crossed. "You came out here to sleep?"

"No, I-" I glanced around and saw the pillars of the garden across the canyon, heard the water running below. "I figured I could waste my time wandering the range."

Malik looked down at me with his sharp eyes.

"I guess I fell asleep." I shrugged.

"You haven't changed very much have you?" Malik sighed, offering a hand.

I took it and he pulled me to my feet. I waited for the spinning in my head to subside before speaking again.

"Now I have to ask, what are _you_ doing here?"

He turned away, showing me his profile.

"I was heading back from a mission and decided to take the scenic route for a change." He looked over. "I saw your figure and decided to investigate."

"I see."

"How often do you come out here?"

"Not very. I prefer to stay within the walls of Masyaf when off duty, I guess you can say it makes me feel….secure."

I received a quizzical look from my companion.

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't really tell…."I said. "Every time I am not within the walls of Masyaf I get this feeling of anxiety. Like I can never feel safe elsewhere."

I looked over to see the way Malik studied me, the strange look in his eyes that could have almost been concern.

"Forgive me." I said with an awkward smile. "I am rambling and I feel it is best that I return now."

Malik nodded. "Safety and peace, my friend."

"Upon you as well."

Though we spoke few, I enjoyed the company of Malik. We had grown up training beside one another. As children, though, we didn't get along as well. Even now Malik always held the Creed above all things, always sticking by the rules. During our training he always complained about the fact that I was female and had no place on the battlefield. He said that about all of the few women who enlisted to learn the ways of murder. It had caused a barrier to form between us and even as young teenagers we would get into scuffles about the rank and duties of the genders.

I remember the first time I grew tired of him complaints and taunts. He told me, after he had witnessed my defeat to a fellow student, that I never learned and should have returned to cooking and cleaning long ago, that my gender would forever hold me from being among the same rank as men. I can still remember the way the comment had pushed me over the edge, how anger took over, compelling me to stand by his insults no longer. I approached him, rearing my fist back and put all the strength into the blow I delivered to his face. Our first fight followed, some of the younger kids cheering us on while the teacher sat by and watched with a look of annoyed patience.

In the end we were pulled apart, the young Altaïr restraining Malik and a fellow trainee, who's name I cannot remember, pulling me away. The fact that Malik had been left in a much worse state than I, left him humiliated and he didn't speak or insult me for long afterward. However, his prejudice was quick in its return as were the fights.

Eventually time cooled our tempers and Malik learned to accept what and who I was. Our relationship evolved from one of blood to bond. He began to regard me like he did the other students and even congratulated me when I was finally promoted to the rank of Assassin.

He was one of the first to witness and become aware of the changes that were forming in Altaïr. Like me, Malik had always envied Altaïr but he had never disrespected him. But when the Son of None began to hold himself above others, when suddenly, as though just realizing his skill were above those around him, he began to hold the Creed as something less superior to himself, Malik's respect turned to disgust. No one really know what happened, or why the change took place, Altaïr just….changed and the admiration of those around him melted away and left only words of scorn. But he cared not. It seemed that as long as he was content (or pleased) with himself, the world's opinion mattered not, and they naïve for not recognizing the gifts given to him.

I was there and witnessed the change and its painful progress, like a disease eating away at one of the most important people in my life. The novice who found me, along with a full-fledged Assassin, passed out in Masyaf. The person who worked along side myself and Fouad, and had become one of my closet friends.

And it broke my heart.

-----------_Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one _--------------------

Though Haydar had not yet returned from his own assignment, I was summoned before Al Mualim once again. I did not feel so embarrassed when standing before him again. I had carried out my task perfectly, if such a thing as perfection existed, and the success gave me the confidence to face my master without my tail between my legs.

Yet, Al Mualim's expression appeared no differently. He still regarded me as a child in punishment, I could see it in his eyes but I did not let it bother me. I would regain his favor in time, of that I had no doubt. Along with that I would return to working along side Haydar and all will be well. The last thought, the way it was worded in my mind, sounded naïve and I wondered where the thought had originated from in the first place.

I bowed as Al Mualim acknowledged my presence.

"You have yet another mission for me, Master?"

He nodded stiffly.

"You claimed Efraim told you of a Crusader in Tyre named Fredrick Thomas, one who was involved with his schemes?"

"It is as you say."

"I wish to know more about this man." Al Mualim stated as he turned to me fully. "If he is involved with Efraim's schemes then there is a chance that it is something beyond Efraim's kidnapping."

"He did not use the same wording, Master."

Al Mualim looked at me sharply.

"If I may sir, he claimed he was helping these young women to escape from arranged marriage, shipping them off of their own free will."

Al Mualim studied me. I would be a liar to say his intense gaze did not intimidate me, even if only slightly.

"Do you trust to words of this man?"

"What gain would this man have to hide his knowledge at the time of his death?" I countered.

My master dropped his gaze but for a moment.

"I feel there are greater things at work here, child." He said, turning his back to me. "Possibly a conspiracy."

"With all due respect, sir…" I pressed, keeping the suspicion out of my voice to the best of my ability. " what has lead you to this conclusion?"

"I have eyes and ears across the Holy Land." He said, his voice fading out towards the end of the statement.

There was silence between us, but he turned suddenly to face me.

"You are to go to Tyre and end the life of Fredrick Thomas."

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift of the subject but I nodded none the less.

But when I turned to go, Al Mualim stopped me.

"I have a companion with whom I wish for you to work with." Then after a pause, he added. "And cooperate."

He nodded his head to the left of my and I turned to see a figure walking, somewhat cheerfully, somewhat confident, towards me. I had to keep my mouth from falling agape from the disbelief.

_God, _I pleaded, despite my lack of a religious opinion. _what have I done to lose your favor as of late?_

"It's been a long time, has it not, Lisha?" Saqr said, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Saqr was one of the best when it came to his skills as an Assassin. He was a decent fighter but most of all, it was his ability to draw information from other and his deceit. Basim was a man who was run on thoughts of what was wrong and what was right, lying was a task near to impossible to him. Saqr could lie like it was the truth, he never gave himself away and he never lost confidence in his words, false or not. He was sly and could easily bend words to make them sound enticing, like the way a cactus harbors water but you're to thirsty for it you fail to see the spikes. Even though I say he is a _decent_ fighter, he's better than most, most certainly his older brother.

Despite himself being an Assassin, though, Saqr did not relish the thought of giving up his human birthed pleasures. Though the order looked down upon it, he relished the sound of music, indulged in the taste of fine alcohol. But most of all, he loved the women around him. He chased any pretty face that came his way. And he was good at it. I never truly understood the attraction the women he flirted with, never say what lay beneath his brown eyes that caused them to fall so willingly into his arms. I found it difficult to trust his words. The thing about him, though, that irked me the most was the fact that I had eventually became one of those women who crossed his path. He used his pretty words, his charms but I was never moved. You would think he would give up after the flood of rejection but instead it fueled him. I was apparently the first to not succumb and because of this he was resolved to seduce me, not accepting defeat. It cause great dislike towards him on my behalf.

"I believe the last time we had an actual conversation, Saqr," I said, keeping the glare from my face. "was four weeks ago. Not too far back, do you agree?"

He laughed and in a way it angered me.

"You are cold as always, Lisha, cold as winter." He lowered his face and smiled up at me through his lashes. "I much prefer the colder season as opposed to the warmer ones."

I couldn't help but turn my face back to Al Mualim with a face that was both skeptical and pleading. My master didn't seem to notice me.

"Saqr has already been informed of the mission and considering the hour, I believe it would be wise for you to leave as soon as possible."

I understood the dismissing and bowed my head slightly before walking away quickly. Saqr followed and my pace quickened, causing him to jog slightly to keep up.

"Working together for the fist time." He said. "I am truly excited and expect great things."

I continued walking, my gaze forward.

"Quiet like the tomb, eh? I know you don't like me very much but you should at least give me a chance."

I turned a corner and descended the stairs, Saqr falling behind. Alas, he caught up once I had reached the gate into Masyaf.

"I'll take that as a no." He said with a smile. "But since we are partners at the moment, you will have to open your beak. We can't work together if we can't communicate."

He was spewing nonsense now, a pathetic attempt to make conversation. But it wasn't accidentally pathetic, he meant for it. The slight plead in his voice; he was trying to find a way for me to respond to him.

"Okay, maybe I have tried to get you to sleep with me a few times….."

_A few?!_

"And perhaps I'm still trying to now…."

_Perhaps, huh?_

"but the least you can do is-"

I whirled on his suddenly. We stood on the outside of Masyaf now, where the horses stamped the ground and shook their manes impatiently. Upon my sudden change Saqr stumbled back slightly but his smile remained.

"I am going to sent the barrier now." I said sternly. "I don't like your schemes, I don't like your methods and most of all I don't like _you_! I don't want any talk of my feminine anatomy or of me sharing you bed for other reasons then rest. Many of our brothers have died on missions, and an accident resulting in your demise would not be viewed as suspicious, you understand?"

He looked at me a bit, his face stunned but his stupid smile returned as though it had never left.

"You know, if you channeled that anger into other 'activities' you could do some amazing-"

I raised my hand to strike him but he caught it easily before it reached his face. He pulled my forward, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"I like that about you." He said softly. "You are held in such high regards by those around you but all of your skill comes to naught when your temper interferes. It proves that you are still human, and not above the rest of us."

Being so close to him made me uncomfortable and my face flushed in anger as I pushed away from him.

Saqr snickered. "Relax, Lisha, relax. I'm just kidding."

"Touch me again and I _will_ kill you."

He laughed. "Now **that **I greatly doubt."

_Author Notes: Yes, yes, I've been gone for forever XD I've been buys with AC2 and, honestly, have been busy and lazy so, sorry sorry. Anyways. I really wanted a scene where Sistine just snapped and I've added two new Templars._


End file.
